Contemplation Indigo
by DRL
Summary: Loosely connected series of stories charting the live and times of the pilots aged 29-30yrs. Pairings 1x2 3x4 13x5
1. Default Chapter

Contemplation Indigo

By DRL

                'It was a dark and story night…'  Only joking!  It is neither dark nor stormy and to be quite honest, considering where I am at the moment, the dark I can cope with but the stormy I could definitely do without.  

                I am on a yacht, Trowa's yacht actually.  Well I guess it's kind of mine too, since we are married and, according to our vows, what is mine is his, and vice versa.  It was my present to him for his 30th birthday a few months ago.  Well it was kind of a joint present, since it happened to have been our 10th wedding anniversary that month too.  Ten years!  I can scarcely believe it…  Anyway, back to the yacht.

                She's a beautiful yacht and Trowa is so delighted with her that I have been patting myself on the back ever since for having had such a wonderful idea.  Just to give you some local colour, here is a brief description.  She is a 160ft motor yacht with four decks, five staterooms in addition to our magnificent Master Suite, a large Main Salon, three bars, once office, one fitness room and a media room (a sort of movie theatre-cum-entertainment room).  She also boasts an interior elevator, which links the four decks (for those, like myself, who are incapable of negotiating the lethally steep stairways), a helicopter landing pad (complete with helicopter), a sundeck and a swimming pool.  The crew also have their own separate living area, which is very comfortable (I was most insistent upon this point).  

                Her exterior is quite traditional in style for a new-build motor yacht, with a navy hull and white superstructure.  Her interior is pure 'Art Deco' and quite sumptuously luxurious.  Trowa and I were watching an old movie one night, which was set on 'Earth in the roaring 1920's' we were reliably informed.  Throughout the film Trowa constantly admired the fixtures, fittings and furnishings of the various hotels, houses, apartments and restaurants within which the action of the movie took place.  I pigeonholed this information, as I do with everything my darling tells me about his likes and dislikes, and once I had had the idea of having the yacht built for him, the style of the interior needed no thought whatsoever.  An afternoon's research at the library gave me all the information I needed.  I gave the interior designer a simple brief – 'Art Deco', 1920's, unadulterated luxury.  That was it in a nutshell, and I have to say that he certainly came up with the goods.

                I still remember the look on my darling Trowa's face when he first laid eyes on her.  I had insisted on his being blindfolded as we were driven to the marina where she was berthed.  As I helped him from the car he immediately said 'We're by the sea aren't we?'  Ha, there's no fooling my Trowa!  Well I was not about to have the surprise I had been cooking up for the past three years foiled that easily, so neither confirming nor refuting his suspicions, I turned him so that he was facing her aft end, and removed the blindfold.

                I could clearly read his emotions in the expressive sweep of his elegant eyebrows.  At first they drew together in confusion as he took in the sight of the sleek yacht bobbing gracefully at anchor, then as he read the name picked out in flowing gold script on the gleaming navy lacquer of her transom, 'Trowa Babe', his beautiful eyebrows rose to the level of his hairline, even as his eyes assumed the size an shape of a couple of the saucers from my favourite Missen tea service.  He turned to me and I saw the tears shining in my love's eyes.

                "A charter?" He asked falteringly, although I was sure he knew that this was no charter.  A chartered yacht could never be so personalised as to bear his name.  I shook my head and smiled up at him.

                "No my love, she's all yours."

                The dam burst and the tears flowed from emerald eyes that met mine with an expression of such pure devotion that I felt sure my heart would burst.  He enfolded me in his strong arms and whispered in my ear,

                "I love you, my God how I love you."

                It was a pricey present, even for me, but I would willingly buy him ten more just to see that expression on my love's face again.  To say that he was pleased with his gift is a bit of an understatement.  I won't go so far as to say that he loves that boat more than me, but it's a pretty close contest!               No, I'm only kidding but as a gift, it was definitely a winner (no pun intended).

                Trowa has taken to yachting like a duck to water, and in a few years I think that he might be ready for a sailing yacht, you know, real hands-on sailing, with sails and ropes and everything.  I, on the other hand, have unfortunately discovered that I have no sea legs whatsoever.  In fact, I am writing this on the sun-terrace of our Stateroom as I have taken to my bed with seasickness.  I am usually only like this for the first day, since Sally usually gives me a shot of something before we sail, which usually kicks in after about a day;  I'm usually fine after that.  I hate being like this because my Trowa won't enjoy himself if he knows that I'm not comfortable.  He was with me until a few moments ago, but I sent him away – back to our guests.

We have our best friends staying with us as we spend a couple of weeks cruising around the Caribbean islands.  At the moment we are at anchor about half a  mile off the coast of Bridgeport, Barbados.  I am looking out at the mainland coast as I write, and I have to say that there are worse ways to spend an afternoon, seasickness notwithstanding.

Our guests are two other couples, Heero & Duo Maxwell Yuy and Treize and Wufei Kushrenada.  We've all stayed really close in the 15 years since the end of the war.  We've kept up with the others, you know, Zechs, Noin, Une, Sally_, et al_, but the six of us are particularly close.  I need scarcely articulate why this should be – I think it's fairly obvious.

Trowa and I got together immediately after the war.  We both knew that we were in love with each other way before then, but also we both knew better than to do anything about it at that time.  After all, we were both soldiers – we could hardly go out on dates could we?  The time was just not right while the war was still raging.  Either of us could have gone at any time, and then what would the other have done?  No, the time was not right.

After the war though, we took the first tentative steps towards a relationship.  It was of necessity a somewhat sporadic relationship, since I had to take up my position as the head of the Winner family and CEO of Winner Enterprises Inc. and Trowa had no option but to return to the circus.  We thought that we were in love, but at 15 years old and with no previous experience on which to draw, neither of us had any real idea of what that meant.  We soon found out, however, since the increasingly long periods of enforced separation almost killed us both.  We finally reached a point where neither of us could function without the other, so after about two years Trowa left the circus and came to live at first near me, and then with me.  

He was insistent that he did not want to be 'kept', so to give him something constructive (not to mention gainful) to do I tried him in several jobs within WEI.  However, the cut and thrust of the business world was just not for him.  I had just started up a charitable organisation to raise and administer funds for various charitable applications around Earth and the Colonies and Trowa gravitated towards this, its more sedate pace and disinterested aims being more suited to his calm, level personality.  Within a few short years he had risen to become the spokesperson and figurehead for what had become The Winner Foundation and under his surprisingly expert guidance, it is now the largest charitable organisation I the world with patrons from within the highest echelons of society and work programs in all of the neediest areas of the Earth Sphere and the Colonies.

After living together for three years my darling did me the honour of accepting my proposal and ten years ago, on what was still the happiest day of my life, he became my husband.  As I think back to our wedding day I unconsciously raise my left hand to my lips and place a light yet fervent kiss upon the gold band around my third finger.  Smiling to myself as I realise what I have just done, I lower my hand and continue writing.

Heero & Duo's relationship ended up pretty much the same way as Trowa's and mine, but it began quite differently.  They _did_ begin a romantic relationship while the war was still in full swing.   Now I use the term 'romantic' in its broadest possible sense.  From what I could see back then, there was little or no romance in the 'rutting' that took place between those two.  

I believe that there _was_ a bond there, though I would hesitate to call it love.  Much as he would like to have denied it, Heero did care for Duo, albeit in a very domineering and possessive manner.  Surprisingly though, Duo seemed to respond well to this, seemed even to crave it.  Trowa and I came to the conclusion that this could possibly have been because to Duo this possessiveness was at least evidence of the fact that someone cared about him enough to be bothered about what he did or didn't do.  During the war there was little tenderness in Heero's attitude towards Duo, at least not in front of the rest of us.  However, Duo assured me that he was quite different when they were together in private.   

Heero was never brutal or violent towards Duo; Never that.  It's just that he seemed indifferent to him one minute, typing away on that laptop computer of his, then he would be barking orders at him the next minute.  Usually these orders were ultimately to Duo's benefit, such as 'Duo, eat those vegetables, you need the nutrients', or 'Duo, zip up that jacket before you go out, you'll catch your death otherwise.  You know how prone you are to colds.'  These orders were delivered with Heero's own special blend of Drill Sergeant and Schoolmarm.  His manner notwithstanding however, Heero took very good care of Duo, always looking out for his welfare and taking care of him if he was injured on a mission.  He was quite obsessive about it as I recall and it was really quite sweet.

For his part, Duo was utterly besotted with Heero, and seemed totally oblivious to the fact that Heero dominated him completely.  As a soldier, Duo was second to none, and was completely in charge of himself and his Gundam, but outside of that Heero controlled him completely.  As I said though, Duo embraced this wholeheartedly, and Heero was never really mean to him, only cold and indifferent sometimes.  At nigh however, they seemed to find some sort of happy medium because they certainly seemed to make some sort of music together, whether it be beautiful or otherwise.

After the war their relationship moved into a different gear as both Heero & Duo came to terms with life in peacetime.  They both foundered at first, as indeed did we all, but they eventually found their feet and their respective callings.  Heero gravitated towards computer technology (surprise, surprise), and after designing a computer operating system that soon swept the world and became every industries standard, he now owns and runs the largest computer software company on Earth and the Colonies.  Duo fell to expressing himself through art, and has become a successful conceptual artist, specialising in large sculptural installation compositions using materials found in nature and scrap items he collects from dumps and scrap yards.  He also does some individual canvas work as a sideline, and has a large retrospective on at the MOMA in New York at the moment (do go see it if you get a chance).  Considering his media his work is surprisingly good and I have a small collection of his canvasses.

The two of them moved in together immediately after the war, and Heero's attitude towards Duo changed considerably.  He became less domineering and much warmer towards him, although he was still a control freak.  Funnily enough, Duo also changed and he became much less receptive and tolerant of Heero's tendency to tell him what to do and how to do it, giving just as good as he got.  Well, as you can imagine this led to a rather volatile relationship, with Heero telling Duo how things were going to be and with Duo telling him in no uncertain terms just where to get off.  Many was the time that Trowa and I would be knocked awake in the small hours of the morning by either Heero or Duo (and on occasions both) seeking refuge after having stormed out of their apartment in a huff during a particularly  heated fight.  They invariably made it up though, and I'm sure the sounds of their 'make-up' lovemaking could be heard halfway across the Galaxy!

They married the same year that Trowa and I did, and I find it ironic that, although they fight like cat and dog, where Trowa and I never even exchange a cross word, I would swear that they are as much in love with each other as we are.

Now Wufei & Treize came as a big surprise to all of us.  I had no idea that there was anything going on between them, Treize being the enemy and all.  However, by the time the whole thing came to light, this fact was neither here nor there, since the war was over.  The first thing any of us knew about their relationship was about three and a half years after the war.  Wufei had disappeared immediately after the armistice was declared.  Well he didn't exactly disappear, since we all knew where he was.  He had gone to China to the Shaolin Temple for a while to 'get his shit together' as Duo so elegantly put it.  We heard from him periodically, but we never saw him.  

Around three and a half years after the cessation of hostilities, the four of us each received a communication from him asking us to make our way to what turned out to be a large chateau in the Dordogne region of France on a certain date.  When we all arrived Wufei was there, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed and acting quite the Lord of the Manor.   He ordered refreshments to be brought and then calmly proceeded to inform us that he had first an apology and then an announcement to make.  Firstly, he apologised that he had been less than honest with us over the past few years.  He had indeed gone to the Shaolin Temple, but he had remained there only 18 months.  He then announced that he had left the temple voluntarily and promptly married his lover of the past two years.  He then left the room and returned a moment later, leading Treize fucking Kushrenada (excuse my French) by the hand.  

Well to say that you could have knocked the four of us down with a single feather is putting it somewhat mildly.  We had all done the sums and realised that Wufei had just confessed to he and Treize's having been lovers during the war, albeit for the final 6 months, while he was still our enemy.  There were no recriminations though, and amid many tears (from me, I admit it), many hugs and much backslapping, we managed to convey our delight in finally being reunited and our joy in Wufei's having found happiness, even if it was with Treize Kushrenada of all people.  We all well knew how desperately bleak and lonley those days during the war could get and if Wufei had found comfort in the arms of the devil himself, I think that each one of us would have patted him on the back and said "Atta boy!"  We welcomed an apprehensive Treize to our little group and we all spent a pleasant week getting reacquainted and talking over old times.

Treize is a gentleman of leisure and does nothing in particular for a living, having enough hereditary property, land and wealth to sustain both himself and Wufei in aristocratic style for several lifetimes.  Wufei himself, having no real need to earn a living, occupies himself by undertaking independent studies into whatever subject takes his fancy, then writing well-informed books on the subject.  His books actually sell quite well, considering that this is not his main objective in writing them.

So, this is what became of us all after the war.  Fifteen years later we are all still the best of friends.  We haven't changed much over the years, but we have all changed some, in both appearance and personality.  This is only to be expected however, since we are all between 29-30 years old now, and Treize is almost 40.

I didn't know Treize during the war, so I can't vouch for his personality back then.  Now he is distinctly aristocratic in his bearing, very sophisticated but also very polite and considerate (not to mention a litte eccentric).  He is devoted to Wufei and will stop at nothing to ensure his comfort and happiness at all times.  He is constantly fussing over his 'Dragon', plumping his cushions for him when he sits and drawing a rug over his knees when the temperature drops as the night draws in.  Being the spitfire that he still is, Wufel feigns impatience with Treize's solicitations, but those of us who know him well can see the pride and love in his eyes as he regards his aristocratic husband.  

In appearance I think that Treize has changed the most.  He was a full-grown man during the war, and even then he had a large, firm build, which he still has.  Beside him Wufei looks quite the waif.  He stands just over 6ft tall, with an upright, stately bearing.  He does look older though, a slight tightening of the skin around the jaws and the appearance of fine lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiles..  His red hair, while still vibrant, is greying slightly at the temples, although I think this gives him an air of distinction.  Wufei finds it irresistibly sexy and Treize says that if this is the reaction he gets, he can't wait to go grey all over.

Wufei is still short (even shorter than me, and that is saying something), around 5ft 7", whippet trim and quite effete looking.  He still looks darkly exotic, with those smokey almond eyes, but he no longer wears his shoulder-length hair in that tearjerkingly tight pony tail.  It now sweeps up and over the arch of his brow to cascade down the left side of his face, swinging freely around his shoulders, although he tucks it neatly behind his ears when he need it out of his way.  He has very lovely hair; I have often told him so.  He wears spectacles most of the time now, his eyesight, never 20:20 at the best of times, having gradually deteriorated over the years.  These make him look even more the scholar though.  

As I mentioned before, he is still a spitfire, with the shortest fuse ever.  He is extremely quick to anger, but equally as quick to forgive.  Strangely enough, his fiery temper is usually directed at the two people that he has the most affection for, namely Treize Kushrenada and Duo Maxwell Yuy.  Wufei has always had a soft spot for Duo, even when we were kids, and I often wonder what might have been, but for Heero.

Duo really hasn't changed a bit personality-wise.  He is still bright, bubbly and exuberant, loud, vocal, sometimes profane but always utterly adorable.  He still has that impossibly long, chestnut coloured hair and still wears it in his trademark braid.  His beautiful violet eyes still shine with mirth, and he is always equally as ready with either a smart-ass wisecrack or a kindly word, delivering whichever he deems necessary at any particular moment.  He and Heero do seem to fight rather a lot, but it is never about anything really serious.  My theory is that they do it either to keep the rest of us entertained (which it invariably does) or to keep each other from getting bored.  

Heero and he are much of a height, around 5ft 10".   Duo ended up being the heaviest of all of us, although he eats the most, so there is no surprise there.  When I say heavy I don't mean overweight, he just has the broadest and heaviest build of all of us.  Not quite as heavy as Treize, but heavy nonetheless.  He does a lot of manual work while making his 'Junk Models' as I jokingly call them (Duo hates it when I call them that), so his musculature is quite well defined and he has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of when he removes his shirt.

Heero's build is more akin to Wufei's, although he is several inches taller.  He has loosened up considerably over the years, but one still would not call him gregarious.  He is nowhere near as taciturn as he used to be, but he's far from a chatterbox.  One thing you can be sure of though, when Heero gives you an opinion you can be sure it is an honest one.  He is not one to spare feelings; a spade is a spade to our Heero.  One thing that has changed is his hair.  It is still dark brown, but it is no longer messy since he has taken to wearing it in a close crop, the only length being at the crown.  This crowning thatch is messy yes, but I think that this is by design rather than by accident.

As for myself, well, what can I say?  I am not very tall, although I am taller than Wufei.  I know, I already mentioned that, but allow me to clutch at my straw.  I am still blond, although thanks to Nicky, an Image Consultant that I hired about 8 years ago to groom Trowa and I to perfection for our very public lives, I have now acquired what he calls 'highlights'.  So I have now graduated from a 'natural' blond to an 'enhanced' blond.  Nicky ensures that Trowa's and my appearance keeps up with current trends, but only so far as befits our age and status, so that we appear appealing to our public.   I know what you are thinking, sounds like a load of old nonsense, but they have done a lot of research into this and apparently it works.  Politicians and the like thrive upon it.  It certainly does Trowa and I no harm either, judging by our mutual success so far.

I take no prisoners in the boardroom and as a businessman I am considered as hard as nails, but out of it I am as meek as a kitten and as mild as a ham.  I positively bawl my eyes out at the merest hint of a wedding and even the cheesiest romantic movie has me reaching for Kleenex.  The bottom line is that I am a complete sap, but hey, what the hell?

This brings me to my favourite subject – my Trowa.  He is beautiful, wonderful, magnificent, brilliant…can you see a pattern forming here?  But it's all true though.  I know that my opinion may be considered biased, but my Trowa is perfect.  He has the intelligence of a scholar, the wisdom of a philosopher, the beauty of an angel, the grace and poise of a dancer, the strength of a lion, the benevolence of a saint, oh I could go on for ever.  And I love him.  I love him to absolute distraction.  I have loved him from the first moment I laid eyes on him and I will love him until the moment I draw my last breath.  He is my single _raison d' etre_.   My business, social status and personal wealth be damned - I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it stood between me and my Trowa.  I almost did once, but that is another story for another time.

The Steward has just brought me a pot of tea.  He said that 'Mr Barton' asked him to bring it.  My darling is so thoughtful.  We allow the crew to call us Mr Barton and Mr Winner to avoid the confusion of us both being referred to as Mr Barton Winner.   We adopt the same expedient at home wit the household staff and it works quite well.  To the rest of the world we are Mr Quatre Barton Winner and Mr Trowa Barton Winner – we are most insistent on this point.  Anyway, I digress…

My love and I live together in absolute conjugal bliss.  We never argue, hell, we never even disagree!  Wufei says that he would have thought it impossible had he not seen it for himself, and Duo says that it must be boring for us (you see, my theory was right).  I can vouch for the fact that neither of these statements is true.  It is perfectly possible and far from boring.  My angel and I are so devoted to each other that we cannot bear to be apart.   When our respective work schedules began to take us away from home more and more, it soon became impossible.  I couldn't function without my angel at my side, and he would constantly be worrying because he knew that I would be fretting due to his absence (I told you I was a sap).  Now our respective offices liaise with each other and arrange things so that we are both in the same place at the same time.  It works very well and now my darling and I are seldom parted.

My Trowa has always been known for his grace and elegance, and both of these traits have developed over the years to the point where simply watching him make a cup of tea is like watching a finely choreographed ballet.  His body is exquisitely honed and I swear, I only need to catch a glimpse of his smooth, flat stomach when his t-shirt rides up as he raises his arms to reach something down from a shelf, and I loose my mind.  It's all I can do to stop myself from throwing him to the floor and taking him there and then.  I must confess to having given in to the temptation on occasion too.  I'd better leave this line of thought, however.  Its ultimate conclusion is as obvious as it is inexorable, and I am already beginning to feel a little warm.

Nicky has tweaked Trowa's hair also, and it no longer covers one half of his beautiful face.  I have to admit that this is an improvement (if indeed one _can_ improve on perfection), because now both of his emerald eyes are visible.  Nicky got a little carried away a few years back and tried to 'tweeze' (as he put it) my Trowa's eyebrows.  I solemnly vowed to break both of his arms if he so much as showed a pair of tweezers to my angel.  There wasn't any trouble after that.

I miss my love already, and he only left the room an hour ago.  I sent him back to our guests, promising that I would come and join them all after I had rested for a few hours.  This was a little subterfuge on my part.  I had no intention of resting; I wanted to finish writing this.  However, I am anxious to be with him again.  I suppose I could ring for the Steward and ask him to send Trowa to me, but this would leave our guests alone again (never let it be said that the Barton Winners are poor hosts).  I will just have to steel my stomach and join them out on deck.  I can't see them from w here I am seated.  This is our own private terrace, where we cannot see or be seen by either the guests or crew.  This opens up a plethora of amorous possibilities, let me tell you.  Whoa there Winner, that way lies danger!

Well I have screwed up my courage and I am ready to join the others out on the sundeck, so I'd better draw my little narrative to a close.  I think that the shot that Sally gave me is beginning to work because I don't feel quite so bad anymore.  Perhaps it was the tea?

  Well, that's all folks!  This is me, my friends, my life and my wonderful, wonderful, husband.


	2. Two Components

**Two Components**

By DRL

                "Okay, okay, I'm coming"

I belted my satin robe about my waist as I padded noiselessly across the entrance foyer on unshod feet.

                "Mr Winner?"

The sleepy voice came from the landing whence I had just descended.

                "It's okay Johannes, I'll get it."  I called out without turning around.  "Could you please make up the Blue Guest Room, then you can go back to bed.  I'll deal with this."

                "Well, if you're sure Sir…"

                Another insistent peal rang through the house, drowning out anything further our butler may have said.

                "Okay, okay."  

I quickened my pace, not to hasten the admittance of the tardy caller, but because I was mindful lest the constant ringing of the doorbell disturb my Trowa, who was asleep upstairs.  I was bitterly regretting my decision against donning slippers as my feet fairly froze to the cold marble of the floor, despite the relatively warm temperature of the hall.  Upon reaching the double doors I quickly unfastened them without fear, since I well knew who stood without.   Even without the state-of-the-art video surveillance security system we have installed throughout the house and grounds, no-one but Duo Maxwell Yuy would have the temerity to come calling at such an ungodly hour.  No-one, that is, except Heero Maxwell Yuy.

Almost before the door was unlocked it was pushed open and Duo breezed past me, ranting as he went.

                "That's it, that's fucking well it!" He raved, striding up and down the hall.  "I've had enough!"

I re-fastened the doors, turned to Duo… and gasped.

                "Duo, my God, what happened to you?"  I ran to his side, and my voice dropped as my eyes widened in slowly dawning horror, "Did Heero do this?"  

Duo was dressed in the tattered remnants of a tuxedo.  The once smart trousers were creased and muddy, the shirt was torn, the tie hung limply from Duo's neck, untied.   He wore no cummerbund but a rather jazzy brocade waistcoat which, despite having had all of its buttons torn off, seemed to have escaped the ravages of the rest of his outfit. God only knows what had become of the jacket.  Duo himself looked as though he had just come from a war zone, a disquieting image which evoked some unwelcome memories.  His face was grimy and there was the distinctly bluish tinge of a bruise on his left cheek.   Wisps of hair that had worked loose from his braid hung despondently around his face.   He carried a large and rather smart leather travelling bag, which he now dropped to the floor at his feet.

                "Hey Q, can you and Tro put me up for a few days, I've left Heero?"  

He looked at me with such a look of dejection that I enfolded him in my arms and crushed him to me.  As I did so, the emotions that I guessed he had long held in check burst forth, and he dissolved into floods of tears.  I gently led him to a small but comfortable sitting room just off the hallway, and settled him down in a large leather sofa.  I curled up beside him and held him, rocking him gently and stroking his hair.  Eventually the storm abated and his sobs became mere sniffles.  I had no handkerchief to offer him, but I wiped away his tears with a corner of my robe and then held it to his nose.

                "Here, blow."  I bade him.   He did so, and just at that point Trowa entered the room, looking pristine but distinctly worried.

                "Darling, are you okay?  I just woke up and …" At this point he caught sight of Duo.  "Duo, my God," He ejaculated, echoing my own reaction.  We are such kindred spirits my love and I.  He crossed the room with a few elegantly swift strides and knelt in front of Duo, his obvious concern for our friend in every feature.  "What happened?"  Duo merely looked dolefully at him and sniffed, so I took up the tale.

                "He's left Heero.  They've had a fight."

                "I can see that."  My love replied, looking Duo up and down.  "Tell us what happened?"  He took one of Duo's hands and squeezed it gently, encouragingly.

                Duo sniffed once more, reached for the corner of my robe again and blew his nose long and hard.  Averting my eyes from the resulting moist, dark stain, I removed the soiled fabric from his tense fingers and offered a clean section.  He sniffed again, blew again, sat up, cleared his throat, and in a hoarse, rasping voice he began.

                "You know how I was up for the Shipman Prize for 'Hay Day'?"  Trowa and I both bobbed our heads affirmatively.  We were well aware that Duo had been nominated for the prestigious art prize.  "Well today was the Award Ceremony.  Me and Heero were all set to go, but he got a call on his cellphone just as we were leaving, and that was it.  He said that something had come up at the office and he had to go, at 6.30 on a fucking Saturday evening!   I begged and pleaded with him to wait until after the ceremony, but he insisted that he had to go.  He said he wouldn't be long though.  Well I waited and waited, and he never showed.  The most important night of my life and he wasn't there."  

                At this point Duo turned, buried his face in my shoulder and wept.  Trowa looked up at me, a finely bowed eyebrow raised in enquiry.  I nodded and he silently left the room.  He returned some moments later carrying a tray on which stood three steaming mugs of hot chocolate.  By this time Duo had collected himself sufficiently to continue.  He gratefully accepted the warming drink from Trowa, took a sip, and pausing only to lick the foam from his lips, he went on with his story.

                "Well needless to say the whole evening was awful.   I spent most of the ceremony either looking at my watch or glancing over to the door to see if he was coming.  To make matters worse, I made what will surely go down in history as the worst acceptance speech ever..."

                "Hey, wait a minute," I interrupted, "You mean you won?"

                "Of course I won."  Duo replied, shooting me a withering look, "Against those no-hopers, are you kidding?"  

                "Oh Duo, congratulations!"  I quickly put my cup down on a side-table and threw my arms around him.

                "Steady on Q," Duo said as Trowa deftly relieved him of his cup, narrowly averting disaster.

                "Darling, how about we let Duo carry on, hmmm?"  Trowa suggested in a honeyed voice.

                "Of course my love," I beamed at him and held out my hand.  He took it, squeezed it gently and pressed my knuckles to his lips before turning back to Duo.

                "When did Heero eventually turn up?"  He asked, handing Duo his cocoa with his free hand.

                "Fucking never!"  He spat.  "I sat through that whole ceremony wishing to god I could get up and leave, but the Shipman Prize winner couldn't be seen to sneak out before the end could he?  So I had to sit there, and then I got dragged to the party afterwards.    I wish I had a buck for everyone who came up to me and said, 'Congratulations Duo, where's your husband?'  When I eventually managed to escape I called Heero on his cellphone, but it was switched off.  Then I did the only thing I could – I went home.  Heero came home about half an hour later, and needless to say, I wiped the floor with him.  And you know what, he even had the balls to try and defend himself!  He said that it was something that needed his input, and it couldn't have waited.  Then he said in that pompous, patronising way he has, 'Duo, I fail to see why you are over-reacting like this.  This was very important to me, why can't you understand that?'  Well that did it.  I looked at him with clear, steady eyes and I said, 'Oh of course, and I'm not?'  I then gathered up the shards of my dignity, went upstairs, packed a bag and left."  

                "Did he try to stop you?"  I asked, nervously eyeing the rapidly developing bruise on Duo's cheek.

                "Well he apologised and said that it wouldn't happen again.  'You're damn right it won't', I told him.   I told him that I was tired of playing second fiddle to his business and his interests.  He never thinks about me.  He just goes on along his merry way, and I bob along in his wake.  He has never taken my art seriously. He sees it as just something I do to pass the time or to keep from getting bored.  He, he…"  Duo sniffed again and dabbed at his eyes with my robe.

                "So at what point did…?" Trowa fingered Duo's torn shirt.

                "Oh that," Duo took a deep breath and replied, "After I left the apartmentI stopped by my studio for a while.  I have a composition there that I am working on.  I put in an hour or so, then I left and came here.

                "You were working on a piece of art and you end up looking like this?"  Trowa said incredulously, "It must have been some composition."

                "Well it's kinda rough work, you know," Duo replied, looking a little abashed, "Mixed media and all."

                "Mixed media?"  Said Trowa, "What were you using, dynamite?"

                "How did you get so muddy?"  I asked.

                "Oh yeah, on my way over here I stopped by the river."

                "By the river or in the river?"  Said Trowa dryly, eyeing the mud from Duo's shoes trousers that was now nicely congealing on the leather of the sofa.

                "I stopped the car on the bridge, climbed down the bank and sat for a while, you know, just thinking."

                "Did you come to any conclusions?"  I asked him gently.

                "Yeah," He replied, "I decided when I'll go back to him."

                "When will that be?"  Said Trowa

                "When he brings my wedding ring back to me."  Duo said.   He stared off into the middle distance, and both Trowa and I knew that he was no longer with us, he was somewhere else, perhaps somewhere where Heero and he were experiencing happier times.  Just then I noticed for the first time that Duo's wedding ring was indeed  missing, a pale, worn strip of skin heralding where it had once lain.  I looked sharply at Trowa and saw that he had noticed it too.

                "Where _is_ your wedding ring Duo?"  I asked him haltingly, afraid of the answer.

                "I threw it in the river."  He replied.

                I took Duo up to his room shortly after, and settled him in.  I stayed with him until he fell asleep, then I went back to our bedroom.  I removed my robe and climbed into bed beside Trowa, entwined my arms and legs with his and buried my face in his chest.

                "Oh Trowa, this is terrible."  I mumbled, "Heero will never find that ring.  What are we going to do?"

                "Shhh darling," He said, rubbing soothing circles on my back and pressing kisses into the hair at the top of my head, "Try and get some sleep.  Don't think about it."

                "But Trowa, how can I sleep when Duo is hurting so much?  He is absolutely devastated.  He cried himself to sleep just now, that's why I took so long.  He thinks that Heero doesn't love him any more, that maybe he never really did.  Heero… what about Heero?"  I tried to scramble up again but Trowa held me down, firmly but gently.

                "It's alright my love, I called him while you were putting Duo to bed."

                "How is he?  What did he say?  Is he alright?"  I raised my head and looked up into Trowa's face, dimly lit from the pale glow of the fast approaching dawn.

                "Well, he asked if Duo was safely with us, and when I said yes he said 'I don't want to talk about it Trowa' and he hung up."

                "Oh."  I said.  I lay back down and idly traced a pattern over Trowa's chest with my index finger.  After a short pause I said, "Trowa love?"

                "Yes angel?"

                "Will you go round and see Heero tomorrow, just to make sure he's alright?"

                "Of course I will my darling, anything to make you happy."  He lowered his head and kissed my lips gently but with passion.  "Now get some sleep baby."

                "Okay Trowa."  I sighed happily, snuggled deeper into my Trowa's firm, lean body and promptly fell asleep.

                Duo didn't come down for breakfast the next morning.   My poor Quatre was so worried about him that he couldn't eat either.   He's such a sensitive soul that something like this would really affect him.  He feels the pain of others so deeply.  I'm not sorry that Duo came to us in his hour of need, but he and Heero have to get this sorted out soon or my angel will begin to sicken and that I will not permit, not under any circumstances.  This is not the first time Duo has come to us after an argument with Heero, but this time it's different.  Even_ I_ could sense Duo's utter despair last night.  Somehow I doubt that they are just going to kiss and make up as soon as their respective tempers have cooled.  

                I left Kitty with him and I came away.  Kitty is my little pet name for Quatre.  'Why Kitty?' I hear you ask, well Quatre =Quat=Cat=Kitty - simple.  No-one knows about it though, it's just between the two of us, and now you, of course.   He's just like a kitten too, all cute and cuddly and soft and playful.  Just like a kitten.  Duo refused to come downstairs; he just wanted to sit upstairs in his room, so Kitty sat up there with him.  I left him brushing Duo's hair for him.  Between the two of them they managed to clean off most of yesterday's dirt and grime, and he looked almost human again, if a little battered.  That must have been some sculpture he was working on!  His spark had gone thought, and that is something that I found surprisingly disconcerting.  When I came into his room that morning, his violet orbs looked up at me with an expression that was as flat and lifeless as Heero's used to be when he was in 'perfect soldier' mode.  I quickly shot a look at Kitty and he gave a discreet shake of his golden head so I forbore to comment.  Duo smiled weakly at me, but the smile failed to reach his eyes.  

I came away, got one of the cars out and went to pay Heero a visit, as I promised Kitty I would.  As I stand outside the door to his and Duo's ultra-modern loft-style city apartment, I am surprised to hear his footsteps approaching the door.  I didn't really expect him to answer my knock.  He opened the door, then turned and walked back into the room, without even stopping to see who it was. 

                "Hello Trowa."  He said over his shoulder.  He threw himself down onto a smart red leather sofa with edges at such sharp 90 degree angles that I was surprised when he didn't wince in pain as he sat.  I followed him into the room, pausing to admire the panoramic view of the city that one was afforded from the 'wall' of glass that comprised the whole of the south side of their penthouse apartment.  I sat facing Heero, on the corner of a large, low coffee table, which Duo had once told me was made from lacquered goatskin!  I still had my doubts.

I looked across at Heero.  He was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, so at least he had gone to bed last night, although by the look of him I doubted whether he actually achieved much in the way of sleep.  He rested his elbows on is knees and held his head in his hands, his fingers enmeshed within the unruly thatch at his crown.  I bode my time and said nothing, and eventually he lifted his head and looked me dead in the eye.  

"How is he?"  He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He's not great." I replied curtly.  I knew that I was being a trifle harsh, but I was none too pleased with Heero at the moment.  As far as I could see this whole thing was his fault.  I instantly regretted my bluntness, however, when I saw the look of pain that crossed his features at my words.

"Will he see me?"  He asked, a pitiful look of hope in his eyes.   I shook my head slowly.

"I doubt it Heero."  I replied.  With a groan he rested his head in his hands again.  After a brief moment he raised it again, and I was shocked to see them glisten with what I suspected were tears.

"I messed up didn't I?"  He asked.

"Big time."  I agreed.  I know, I'll never make a counsellor.  Quatre's the diplomat, not me.

Heero glanced across at me but said nothing.  After another  short pause he said, "I'll talk to him, see if I can get him to come back.  I'm sure he'll come if I can just explain."

"Well, I don't know Heero,"  I said hesitantly,  "He said something last night."

Heero's head jerked up and his cobalt eyes stared into mine, hard and flintly  "What did he say?"  An edge had crept into his voice.  I was not afraid of Heero Yuy however, and I continued undeterred.

"He thinks that you don't love him any more, that perhaps you never really did."  Heero's eyes narrowed.

"Why would he think that?"  He asked sharply.

"I think you would know more about that than I would Heero."  I replied, still too blunt, even to my own ears.     "He said that he would go back to you the day you brought his wedding ring back to him."  He looked at me uncomprehendingly and I continued.  "He threw it into the river last night, on his way to us."

"He threw his wedding ring into the river?"  Heero repeated.  I nodded slowly.  He sunk his head in his hands again and groaned.  When he looked up at me all the fight had gone out of him and his eyes looked desperate and pleading.  "I've got to get that ring back", He said, his voice choked with emotion, "Please help me Trowa… I can't lose him."  Tears coursed down his cheeks as his thin veneer finally cracked, and he wept openly.

I am not at my best in this sort of situation, but I have seen Kitty deal with it often enough, so I did what he would have done.  I took Heero in my arms and held him.  I felt him stiffen at first, no doubt as surprised at my display of warmth as I was at his display of naked emotion.  Then he relaxed, leant against me and literally cried on my shoulder.  The storm abated as suddenly as it had begun, however, and a few short moments later Heero sat himself up, squared his shoulders and looked me in the eye, with no sign of embarrassment nor any apology for his momentary weakness.  

The apartment is a duplex, with the bedrooms located on an upper, galleried level, accessed by two open-treaded stairwells, one at either end of the spacious lower level.   He rose and walked purposefully toward the closest of these stairwells.  On reaching it he paused with a foot on the first of the frosted glass treads, turned to me and said, 

"You can let yourself out.  Tell Duo that I will bring his ring back to him… soon."  He turned, climbed a few more steps, stopped again and turned back to me.  "Oh and Trowa, for what it's worth, tell him I love him."  He continued up the stairs, walked along the gallery to his and Duo's bedroom and entered, shutting the door behind him.

I looked after him for a few seconds, then I rose and made for the front door, and as I did so a smile played about my lips.  I recognised a particular glint in Heero's eyes as he spoke his parting words to me.  I had seen it before many, many times, many years ago.  The 'Perfect Soldier' was on a mission, and I had not the slightest doubt that he would either bring the ring back to Duo or perish in the attempt.

Three months later Duo was beginning to recover a little I think.  Well at least he is eating.  For several weeks he had no more than picked at his food and by now he was looking decidedly thinner.  I hoped that Heero did think that we had been starving him.  Duo had just returned from France and he was looking quite well, considering.  He stayed with Trowa and I for a while in the beginning, but since we both had to work he was left on his own for most of the day.  Under the circumstances neither Trowa nor I thought that this was a good idea so we called on Wufei and Treize.  Trooper that he is, Wufei did not even need to be asked.  As soon as he heard what had happened he said, 'Tell Duo to get ready, I will be there to pick him up by this afternoon at the latest'.  I then heard him giving instructions for their private jet to be prepared.  When he had turned his attention back to me he said, 'He can stay with us at the Chateau for a while, it will be a nice change of scenery for him and at least this way he will have company round the clock.  I don't think he should be alone right now'.  My thoughts exactly! 

As good as his word, Wufei arrived later that same afternoon, with Treize in tow, and they whisked Duo away to their beautiful estate in South West France.  Wufei reported regularly, and Duo's spirits seemed to improve with time, although he still got a little tearful and upset occasionally.  Trowa and I kept an eye on Heero.  He constantly asked us about Duo, and when we explained to him where Duo had gone and why, he gave us both a big hug and, with the most sincere expression I have ever seen he said, 'Thank-you, thank-you very much.  I truly have the best friends anyone could ever wish for.'  Needless to say, I ended up in tears, but really, it was just too poignant a moment.  

Trowa helped Heero with his attempts to retrieve the ring, but unfortunately they all failed.  He had the river dragged, he hired divers to look for it with metal detectors, and he even appealed to the city authorities to have it dammed up so that he could search more effectively.  I helped him with that one, but not even the Winner name had that much clout and they turned us down like a bedspread.  Heero joined us for dinner frequently during this time, and one evening, as we sat around the table enjoying our coffee, I suggested that Heero have a replica of the ring made and pass it off as the original.  No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I regretted having spoken.  Heero shot me a look of pure scorn, and did not deign to comment further.  Trowa was a little easier on me.  He smiled reassuringly at me and said gently, 'Darling, if Heero thought that there was a chance of that working I'm sure he would have tried it by now.  After all, he has spent an awful lot of time, effort and money so far, and I think that Heero is smart enough to have tried the easiest options first.  Duo is not stupid.  He would know his own wedding ring from a facsimile.  The ring he has worn for the past ten years, the ring given to him by the man he loves, the ring that is the very token of that love.  Wouldn't you?'  He was absolutely right of course, and I felt a complete fool.  I nodded contritely, sipped my coffee, and not another word was spoken on the matter.

On one fateful morning we were all sitting out on the terrace having breakfast.  Trowa and I were taking a few days' well-earned break from work, and Treize and Wufei were staying with us for a while, after having brought Duo back to us.  Heero was very conspicuous by his absence, but Duo seemed in fine spirits regardless, and he and Wufei were verbally sparing just as always.  Just then I noticed Johannes, our butler, step out onto the terrace carrying a small silver salver.  He barely suppressed a broad smile as he walked around the table to where Duo was seated and presented the salver to him.

"Mr Yuy asked me to give this to you."  He said.  To avoid confusion the staff adopt the same form of address for our friends as they do for Trowa and I, hence 'Mr Yuy' for Heero rather than 'Mr Maxwell Yuy'.  Duo tentatively reached for the small, muddy object, dwarfed by the proportions of the salver.

"My ring?"  Duo said with a look of complete incredulity, hardly daring to believe it.  He grabbed his snow-white linen napkin and vigorously polished the object between his now muddy fingers.  "It is my ring!"  He exclaimed as he held it up for all to see.  To quote Duo himself, a 'shit eating' grin split each face around the table as we all shared in Duo's obvious joy.  "My Heero brought my ring back to me," Duo said reverently, "He does love me."  H e made a fist of his left hand as he clasped the ring, as if afraid that it might escape, and held the fist firmly against his heart with his free hand.  A single tear rolled down his cheek.  Just then Johannes cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.

"Mr Yuy is waiting in the drawing room, if there is any message that I might convey…"  He got no further.  Duo pushed back his chair and proceeded back into the house through the French windows.  The rest of us followed at a discreet distance of about two feet.

Heero was indeed in the drawing room.  He was dressed in what I think was jeans and a t-shirt, but so caked with mud was he from head to foot, it was difficult to be sure.  Duo went into the room and the rest of us hovered outside the double doors, which stood wide open so we had the peach of a view.  

Duo walked calmly up to Heero and held his left hand outstretched, palm upward.  We could clearly see the yellow gold of the ring contrasted against the creamy white of Duo's skin from where we stood.  Heero looked deep into those violet eyes as he gently took the ring from Duo's palm.  He took the outstretched hand in his, turned it palm downward and slid the ring back into its rightful place, on the third finger of his husband's left hand.  Heero then took Duo into his arms and kissed him soundly.  Duo offered no resistance, and they kissed passionately for long moments, while the rest of us looked on, exchanging happy smiles with each other.  I turned to Trowa, and before I even asked he handed me a handkerchief, which I promptly used to dab at the tears that were welling in my eyes.

When Heero and Duo finally broke the kiss, Heero said, "Duo will you please come home?"

"Why," Duo replied with a teasing grin, "The house too big and empty without me?"

                "No," Heero replied with complete seriousness, "My life is too big and empty without you.  I love you Duo, I always have and I always will."

                "Oh Heero!"  Duo pulled Heero to him and kissed him again.

                "So Heero, how on earth did you manage to find the ring?"  Trowa was the first to articulate the $64,000,000 question that was in all our minds.

                We were all sitting in the Drawing room, Heero and Duo snuggled up together in one arm chair, Trowa and I intertwined in the other, and Treize and Wufei on the sofa, Treize seated upright and Wufei lying outstretched, his head cradled in Treize's lap, while Treize combed his fingers lovingly through Wufei's exquisite raven locks.  Duo had not even mentioned the point.  As far as he was concerned, his Heero had found it and that was all that mattered.  He had not commented on Heero's condition so the rest of us thought it indiscreet to mention it.  Heero had excused himself for a few minutes to freshen up and I had lent him a change of clothes.  Wufei was more his build but I was more his height, so we erred on the side of caution.  He was now looking his usual dapper self, and he and Duo draped over each other on the armchair was a welcome sight to all of us.

                "I prayed."  Heero replied, with a completely deadpan expression.  In answer to the uncomprehending stares and confused silence that greeted his remark, he continued.  "I prayed to Duo's God to help me, and he did." 

                Duo questioned this not at all.  He merely withdrew his ever-present cross from within his shirt, held it to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss to the gleaming metal.  

                "You came through for me.  Thank-you."  He whispered, but I think we all heard him.

                "I woke early this morning with my mind in turmoil trying to think of a way to get the ring back."  Heero explained.   "To clear my head I went for a walk.  I wasn't going anywhere in particular, but I found myself walking on the embankment, alongside the river.  When I reached the bridge I stood on the brow and looked down into the water, only there _was_ hardly any water.  As I knew this stretch of the river to be tidal, I assumed that the recent warm weather, lack of rain and ebbing tide had depleted the waters to the mere stream that I now saw.   

 I was absolutely at my wits end about the ring, so as a last resort I closed my eyes and appealed to Duo's God.  I told him that Duo believed wholeheartedly in him, but that I was dubious.  I asked him to prove his existence to me by helping me to find the ring, not for my sake but for Duo's.  I knew that Duo was hurt and unhappy, but without the ring I was powerless to do anything about it.  As I opened my eyes, I was dazzled by a sudden and particularly strong ray of sunlight.  As my eyes accommodated I caught a glint as the sunlight reflected something shiny in the mud of the dried up river.  As I peered down I caught the glint again, this time stronger.  I scrambled up and over the parapet of the bridge, and jumped down into the mud of the river.  I think that some people crossing the bridge at the time thought that I was trying to commit suicide because they tried to hold me back.  I fought them off and jumped.  I landed on my feet and promptly sunk up to my knees in the mud.  I waded through to where I had seen the glint, falling over a few times, hence my rather grubby appearance.  There was no mistake, because it was glinting still.  I bent to pick it up and I was not in the least surprised to see that it was the ring.  I lifted my eyes to the sky and said 'Thank-you.".   Strangely enough, just at that point the sun went behind a cloud.

I thrust the ring deep into my pocket and scrambled up the bank of the river.  By this time a crowd had formed and some bystanders helped to pull me back up.  After escaping their well-meant but most unwelcome attentions, I ran back to the apartment, got my car-keys and drove over here, not even stopping to clean up first."  He paused and looked around at his audience.

We sat around, completely enraptured by his narrative.  When he stopped talking we all just sat there staring at him.  There was absolutely nothing we could say, so we said nothing.  We could not disbelieve him because he had the ring to prove it, and besides, he had absolutely nothing to gain by fabricating the story, not that Heero would have done any such thing anyway.

Heero took Duo home later that day.  A week has passed and we have not heard anything from them.  None of us are unduly worried about this however, since it is extremely likely that they have not even left their bedroom for this entire time.  We know what they are like when they get back together after spend a couple of days apart.  This time they were apart for over a month so God only knows when we will hear from them next.  Anyway, all's well that ends well, and this episode has ended particularly well.  Trowa and I are hosting a small soirée tonight in honour of Treize and Wufei before they return home to France.  Heero and Duo had been invited, but I seriously doubt whether they will show.  It's a rather formal affair so I had better get on and don the obligatory 'penguin suit' before the guests begin to arrive.  Trowa's already dressed (looking incredibly beautiful) and is downstairs directing the proceedings, but I really ought to be there too.  If you're interested, perhaps I will tell you more about me, my life and my friends another time.


	3. Four Seasons

Please e-mail me at drl451@aol.com for chapter 3.


	4. Solitaire

Solitaire

By DRL

                I sit back, nestling in to the comfortable padded leather of the car seat and replace my cellphone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.  I sigh heavily and run a frustrated hand through my newly-shorn hair.  A few years ago Quatre found it necessary to hire an image consultant to help us 'cultivate our public image' as he put it.  His name is Nicky and he helps us with our appearance and grooming – and he is a complete tyrant!  I had an appointment with him this afternoon, and as a result I am now sporting what Nicky calls a 'French crop', which he insists is 'all the rage'.  Whatever! 

 Quatre has just called to tell me that he will be home quite late tonight and not to wait up for him.  Absolute nonsense, of course, I will most definitely wait up for him.  This is a familiar scenario.  Every time he is late home he tells me not to wait up for him, and I always do.  I think of him coming home, tired and hungry, to a dark, dormant house, fumbling his way to the kitchen to solitarily consume his cold, congealed dinner because he is too weary to be bothered with heating it up, or worse still, going straight to bed without eating at all.  Then tiptoeing up the stairs to the bedroom, shuffling his way out of his clothes in the dark, for fear that switching on the light would wake me.  He would then slide under the covers and fall asleep, cold, lonely and tired, and worst of all, with no-one to hold him.  He wouldn't dare cuddle up to me while I was asleep because he wouldn't want to disturb my rest.  He is so selfless that way.  No, it does not bear thinking about.  I will wait up for him even if I have to wait until dawn.  

I rarely, if ever, have to wait that long, however.  He is never home much later than around 11.00pm, which is quite late enough!  Hansen, our driver, will drive him home.  It's rare that either Quatre or I drive ourselves to or from work.  Our days are stressful enough without that.  I will be at the door to welcome him with a big hug and a kiss, and as I help him off with his coat/jacket (depending on the time of year) and relieve him of his briefcase he will admonish me.  'Trowa,' he will say, 'You shouldn't have waited, I told you not to,' but the happy sparkle in his eyes tells me that he is glad that I did.  I then take his hand and lead him to the dining room, where the huge table has been set for two.  I always wait until he comes before I eat.  Meals are always more pleasant when taken in company.  Hansen will have informed me of the approximate E.T.A., so everything will be prepared, heated and perfectly edible.  Depending on the time, either our butler Johannes will serve us, or I will undertake the task if Johannes has already retired.  After dinner I will take him to our bedroom, even sometimes physically carrying him.   Then I undress him, make sweet, passionate love to him and then hold him in my arms until he falls asleep.  Yes, I'd say that this is a much better end to an evening spent working late.

Hansen draws the car up outside the front doors and comes round to open the passenger door for me.  I thank him, ascend the short flight of stone steps and step into the house.

"Good evening Mr Barton."  Johannes closes the double front doors behind me and steps forward to relieve me of my jacket.  "Mr Winner is working late this evening."    He makes it a statement not a question, though since Quatre and I usually travel home together, this is not too difficult a deduction.  

"I'm afraid so."  I confirm.  I do not trouble to give any further instructions.  Both Johannes and Hansen know the score.  They know what to do and when to do it.

I pull off my tie as I ascend the stairs to our bedroom, and once there I swiftly exchange my business clothes for more casual attire.  Minutes later I emerge from the bedroom clad in jeans, t-shirt and comfortable suede loafers.  All I need to do now is find something to pass the time until Hansen brings my angel home to me.  I smile to myself as I think of what Quatre would do in the same circumstances.  He would pick up the phone and call Duo.  Duo and he would have no trouble talking to each other on the phone for three hours straight!  Me, I walk the corridors until I come to the library.  

The walls of the library are lined with books of all kinds, but I am interested in only one.  I walk up to the only glazed cabinet in the room, open the unlocked door and withdraw a large book, beautifully bound with white and gold brocaded fabric.  The covers of the book are slightly padded and yield gently under my touch.  I carry it reverently over to my favourite chair.  The library is decorated in a quirky and whimsical style, and in one corner stands a magnificent gilt Louis XVI armchair, covered in faux leopard skin fabric.  This is the chair that I always sit in when in the library.  It is also just large enough for two so when Quatre and I spend an evening reading together, it can accommodate both of us.  Altogether a most agreeable chair.

I settle myself down, tucking my legs comfortably beneath me, adjusting myself a little until I find the most comfortable position.  I stroke the fabric of the cover gently with my fingertips before slowly lifting it.  On the first of the gilt-edged pages is a single date, embossed onto the stiff creamy velum.  The day on which all my dreams came true, the happiest day of my life, mine and Quatre's wedding day.  I sigh wistfully and turn the page.  Two small roses, dried and flattened, sit pressed between the pages; our corsages.  The blooms, once white and full, have yellowed and shrunken over the years, but the memories they evoke are still vividly strong.  We chose roses because Quatre had given me a bouquet of roses just after he asked me to marry him.

I remember that day so well.  Quatre had planned a special evening, but everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong..  He had bought tickets for the opera, followed by dinner at a swish new restaurant for which tables had to be booked 2-3 months in advance, so in demand were they.  Firstly he got caught up at the office and left an hour later than planned.  We arrived at the Opera House well after the opening curtain, so we missed the first half of the performance since we were not permitted to enter the auditorium until the interval.  After sitting through the second half we got caught up in traffic on the way to the restaurant.  Some computer glitch with the traffic light system as I recall, and as a result the roads were in total chaos.  We eventually decided to get out and walk, but by this time we were so late that we arrived at the restaurant only to discover that our table had been given away.  We found another restaurant and had dinner there, but Quatre was so upset about the whole evening being such a bust that he was close to tears.   He kept wringing his hands and apologising for the disastrous evening, saying that he had wanted everything to be so perfect and that now it was all ruined.  I tried to tell him that it didn't matter, but he was inconsolable.  At one point he said,

'I wanted to ask you…, I wanted…'  He tailed off and looked dejectedly at me.  

'What did you what to ask me angel?' I asked him, and at that point I swear to you I had no inkling of what was coming.  Suddenly he began frantically patting at his pockets.  

'Oh Trowa,' Came the despondent cry, 'I've lost it!'  

My poor baby then burst into tears.  After some time I was able to calm him down.  Still having no idea of what had been lost, I managed to get him to mentally retrace his steps to see if he could pinpoint where he might have lost 'it'.  It transpired that the last place he remembered seeing 'it' was in his office.  The roads had cleared sufficiently for us to take a cab to the W.E.I building, and sure enough, on his desk was a small, black, velvet-covered box.  Snatching it up as if there were a danger of its escaping again, Quatre turned to me and said breathlessly,

'Trowa will you marry me?'

He thrust the box into my hands and stood there, fixing me with a look half worried, half frightened.  As clueless as I was, this was when the penny finally dropped.  The whole evening finally fell into place.  The special evening he had planned, his obvious agitation all night, his reference to asking me something and his final despair at discovering his 'loss'.  I smiled at him and in a voice that carried a distinct tremor since I was now on the brink of tears myself, I said,

'Yes, of course I'll marry you.'

I held the box out to him and he took it.  With trembling hands he opened it, removed a simple gold band with a solitaire diamond set in the centre, and slid it onto the ring finger of my left hand.  I took him in my arms and kissed him, and every ounce of the deep and overwhelming love I felt for him was in that kiss.  On our way out we passed through the reception area.  On the receptionists desk was a large vase of white roses.  Quatre quickly swept the roses out of the vase and held them out to me.

'I'm sorry for everything this evening.'  He said.  I took the flowers, his first gift to me as an engaged couple, and replied,

'If we could do it all over again I wouldn't change a single thing.'

We went home and consummated our engagement well into the night.  White roses have been my favourite flower ever since.

I leaf through the pages of the album and as I look at the various photographs the whole day comes flooding back to me.  I stop at a photograph of me in my wedding attire, Heero standing beside me as my groomsman.  Looking at the photograph ten years on, I can appreciate how dapper we looked, but at the time I thought we looked ridiculous.  At the planning stage Quatre and I wanted the whole thing to be fun for all concerned, so we decided on a theme.  Treize and Wufei had offered us their chateau in France for the ceremony, so we though it would be a good idea if Quatre and I, our groomsmen, the ushers and close family members dressed in costumes from the period of the reign of King Louis XVI of France, which would be in keeping with the ambience of the chateau.  In fact, Treize assured us that the King was reputed to have regularly stayed there.  The other guests could play along with the fancy dress or not, as they saw fit.  We were all got up in frock coats, brocaded waistcoats, knee breeches, high collars, lace cuffs, silk cravats and shoes with jewelled buckles, although we drew the line at powdered periwigs.  To be honest we all looked like outcasts from the Sanc kingdom and Treize looked just like the General Kushrenada we all knew and hated.  It was quite disconcerting and Quatre and I wondered more than once whether we had made a major _faux pas_.  

It all went ahead as planned, however, and the photo of Heero and I was taken just before the ceremony began.  I was so nervous, but not nervous about the step I was about to take.  I was apprehensive lest Quatre had had second thoughts about taking me on.  It came down to the same brass tacks whichever way one looked at it.  He and everything and I had nothing.  His family, although they never actively or openly opposed him, were not wild about his marrying me.  They tolerated rather than accepted me and when challenged would stress that I was very much 'Quatre's choice', meaning that they didn't exactly approve, but what could they do about it?  To their credit though, then were never rude or unpleasant to me, and now they treat me just like one of the family, which I am, of course.  Just prior to walking down the aisle the only thing on _my_ mind was that Quatre might have changed _his_ mind, and I think it shows in the picture.  On the next page is a photo of Quatre and Duo taken in exactly the same circumstances, poised and ready to walk down the aisle.  Quatre, however, looks radiantly beautiful, supremely confident and deliriously happy.  He was quite obviously experiencing no such qualms.  We had been kept apart for the two days and nights prior to the ceremony.  Duo insisted that this was traditional, and we had no option but to comply.  This enforced separation had definitely contributed to my worries.  Had I been able to see him beforehand I would have been reassured, but as things were, nothing that could actually have happened could have been worse than what my overactive imagination was dreaming up.

The next photograph shows the two of us standing one beside the other, Heero and Duo behind us, just before we walked down the aisle.  I have to say that I look considerably more relaxed than in the previous photo, for obvious reasons.  The room used for the ceremony was the ballroom of the chateau, and Wufei and Treize definitely did us proud with the decorations.  The floral displays were a wonder to behold, and the whole ambience was like a scene from a Fairy Tale.  The space between the two banks of seating that formed the aisle was covered with a plush red carpet, and the carpet itself was strewn with white rose petals.  The air in the room was redolent with the mingling scent of flowers of all kinds.  It was magnificent.  

The next few shots mark our progress as we proceed down the aisle, but the one I pause at is a picture taken as we reach the end of the aisle and stand before the marriage celebrant.  Once again, Quatre and I stand beside each other in the centre of the shot, Heero stands off to the left just behind me and Duo is in the same position behind Quatre.  The rest of the guests fan off to the left and right of the central aisle.  The photographer has used an unusual technique for this picture.  Quatre and I are in sharp focus, Heero and Duo slightly less so, and everything and everyone else within the shot are distinctly blurred.   It's funny, because that is exactly how I remember experiencing the whole thing.  Throughout the ceremony I was completely aware of one person only –  Quatre.   Heero and Duo I was dimly aware of because they periodically shuffled about on the periphery of my perception, handing us rings and things, but the rest of the congregation might just as well not have been there.   It's terrible to admit, but that's just the way it was.  People told us afterwards that we hardly took our eyes off each other throughout the whole ceremony, and I can well believe it.  Quatre Raberba Winner was the complete focus of my universe for the entire duration of that wedding ceremony, and I have to tell you that there ain't a damn thing changed – he still is.

I don't know how I managed to recite my vows and give the requisite responses, but I am reliably assured that I was word perfect.  I was aware only of Quatre.  His beautiful blue eyes stared up at me with such overwhelming love and such utter devotion that I felt sure I would burst if I didn't take him in my arms and kiss those rosebud lips.    Well I didn't burst and I didn't kiss him – well, not until I was given leave to do so by the marriage celebrant.  Funny how those particular words managed to invade my dream state isn't it?  Suddenly, as clear as a bell I heard the word, _'It s is my great pleasure to confirm that you are now joined by the bonds of marriage. You may now celebrate your union with a kiss.'_  And we certainly did!  I seem to recall a round of rapturous applause, which seemed to go on for rather a long time.  I distinctly remember a wolf-whistle, which I knew could only have come from Duo Maxwell.  Mostly though, I remember my angel in my arms and his soft lips on mine, at long last.  I remember his fingers enmeshed in my hair and his tongue entwining with mine, his small body pressed up against me, yielding to me.  The sound of the marriage celebrant clearing his throat brought us back to earth and we reluctantly parted.  The orchestra that Treize and Wufei had laid on struck up our chosen exit piece, and we prepared to leave the room.  Heero and Duo fell in behind us, and in a clearly audible whisper Duo said, 'Hey, you guys are lucky you stopped when you did.  I was about to run out for a bucket of cold water before things went too far.'  

The resulting gales of uproarious laughter that all four of us collapsed into (even Heero) are recorded for posterity on the next page I stop at.  It is a wonderfully happy picture, reflecting how we all felt just at that moment.  Quatre and I were blissfully happy and Heero and Duo were blissfully happy for us.  Heero and Duo have an enlarged copy of it framed and hung in their apartment, and Wufei also has a smaller copy in his wallet.  I have seen it many a time, but never commented on it.   The rest of the day was spent eating, drinking and dancing until well into the night, all of which was captured by the lens of the photographer and the resulting photographs appear in this album.   It is a wonderful record of a magical and unforgettable day.

 As I close the book I muse on the fact that the only memories of that day that are not recorded within these pages are those of the first night we spent together as a married couple.   A magical night that I will never forget, not as long as I live.  We had made love together hundreds of times before, but on that night it was as though it was the first time.  We explored each other's bodies as though discovering new and unfamiliar territory and our lovemaking took us to such extraordinary new heights of ecstasy that Quatre wept with the intensity of his climax. 

Johannes has just informed me that Hansen has gone to pick up Quatre and they will be back within half an hour.   As I rise from my seat, stretch my limbs and cross the room to replace the album, I wonder what heights I will take him to tonight.


	5. Light Fantastic

Light Fantastic

By DRL

Trowa Barton Winner sat back in his chair and looked around the vast room at the sea of tables, at which were seated some of the most eminent (and most importantly for Trowa, the wealthiest) people on Earth and the Colonies.  He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.  It had been an extremely successful evening, so far, and it was by no means over yet.  The Annual Winner Foundation Charity Dinner & Dance was still in full swing, and the dance floor was crammed with couples swirling in time with the strains of the lively tune the band were currently playing.  Trowa knew the song though he couldn't remember the name, and he sang along with it in his head.  

The current function was one of a number of fundraising events that Trowa and his team at the Winner Foundation arranged each year to raise funds to finance their many housing, development and education programs throughout Earth and the Colonies.  In the decade or so during which Trowa had risen to his current position of CEO o f the Foundation, he had taken it from a vague idea in the mind of his then lover Quatre Winner, himself CEO of Winner Enterprises Inc., of somehow putting something back into the community, to the largest and most influential charitable organisation in the entire universe.  Trowa was particularly successful in persuading the wealthy to part with vast sums of their money in a good cause, and to do it both willingly and repeatedly.  Whether it was his striking good looks, his self-effacing diffidence, his courtly charm, his graceful elegance, his sartorial perfection or his impeccable manners, he remained a firm favourite with the press and public alike, and everything he touched turned to gold.  Both himself and Quatre, now his husband, remained darlings of the media, and their every move was photographed, documented and reported under the guise of 'celebrity gossip'.

The Winner Foundation's annual social events had become bastions of the social season.  'Invitations' were purchased at prices that were exorbitantly and ridiculously high, and were usually sold out within hours.  Dress was always formal, and a whole industry was sustained in supplying ladies with couture gowns and jewellery.  From the elegance of the gilt-edged invitations to the luxurious opulence of the ballrooms and banqueting halls that these soirees always took place in, the events spoke to the very souls of the pampered and privileged patrons, and therein lay Trowa's success.  He massaged their egos, flattered their vanity, relieved them of their riches, salved their consciences and they never even saw him coming!   He played on the wealthy and the powerful as on a stringed instrument and he did it all with an easy grace and an enigmatic smile.  He was an extremely clever man. 

Trowa looked around at the faces seated at his own table.  His best friends, the five people most dear to him in the whole world were seated around him, all together again after far too long, in his opinion.  They did not all get together like this as often as any of them would have liked, due to distance in some cases and busy schedules in others, but whenever they did they invariably made an event of it, and had a wonderful time.  Quatre, beside him on his right, was ethereally beautiful in his traditional black tuxedo.  Nicky, his and Quatre's image consultant, had excelled himself, and his husband was groomed and coiffed to absolute perfection.  Nicky, Trowa thought was worth every penny of his exorbitant retainer.  Duo, seated on his left looked roguish as usual, but extremely stylish with it.  It never ceased to amaze Trowa how Duo could manage to look comfortable and at ease, even in a formal evening suit.  This evening he wore his own special brand of formal wear, knee-length frock coat of black damask, with a high, Nehru collar, narrow legged pants and well-polished leather boots.  His beautiful hip-length hair was unbraided, but caught up at the nape of his neck with a black silk scarf.  Heero sat beside Duo, looking dapper and handsome in a formal tuxedo, much the same as Quatres.  He had even managed to tame his hair into submission Trowa noticed with amusement, although he suspected that Duo deserved the credit for this.  Wufei and Treize were visions both.  Treize was dressed in an old-style tail coat, stiff-fronted shirt, collar and cravat, complete with a blood-red sash on which was pinned a large gold medallion, which proclaimed his status as a member of the nobility and identified his rank.  He was by no means the only one present wearing such a token, but he wore it with the most aplomb.  He looked regal, stately, and the epitome of sheer elegance.  People said, Trowa mused, that he himself was elegant but he had nothing on Treize.  The man wrote the book!  As Treize's consort, Wufei was dressed in a similar manner to his husband, the only difference being Wufei's medallion, which confirmed his status as Treize's spouse, and his own noble rank, conferred on him by marriage.  Although Wufei looked extremely smart in his outfit, despite his ever-present spectacles, he also managed to look like a small boy who has been forced to don his best suit for church on Sunday, and was resenting every minute of it.  And, Trowa thought, this was probably not too far from the truth.  They were all his dearest friends and they had done him proud this evening, and for that he silently thanked every one of them.

"Are you okay sweetheart?"  The sudden voice in his ear caused Trowa to start violently.  He turned his head sharply towards the source of the voice and looked into the concerned blue eyes that gazed up at him.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."  The eyes lowered in contrition.

Trowa smiled down at the person he loved more than his own life.  He leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"That's alright darling," He said, placing his hand reassuringly over the one that lay lightly on his forearm, "And yes, I'm fine.  I was just thinking."

"About what?" Quatre asked as he entwined his delicate fingers with Trowas', but before his husband could answer a large hand clapped him on the back.

"Hey Tro, great party man!"  Trowa turned to his left and smiled indulgently at Duo.  Duo had freely partaken of the champagne that had been flowing copiously all night and consequently he was even more garrulous than usual.  This was not an unfamiliar occurrence however, and Trowa knew that Duo was well able to keep himself in check so he entertained no fears of an embarrassing scene or anything of that sort.  Anyway, Duo's husband Heero would soon call a discreet halt when he thought that things had gone quite far enough.  Heero would calmly suggest to Duo that perhaps he had had enough to drink, Duo would agree with a witty rejoinder, and from that point on he would imbibe soft drinks only.  Trowa had seen it happen countless times, so he was not in the least bit worried by Duo's rapidly slurring speech.

"Thanks Duo," He replied, "But I can't take all the credit.  I had a lot of help."  

Without taking his eyes from Duo he clasped Quatre's hand a little tighter, raised their entwined fingers to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on Quatre's knuckles, just to let him know that he was not forgotten, even though Trowa's attention was momentarily diverted.  A flash bulb went off somewhere to his left behind Duo, causing him to blink, but beyond this involuntary gesture he paid it no further attention, so used was he to this by now.   He did, however, glace round at Quatre to make sure that he was not bothered by it.  Reassured on this point he turned back to Duo.  

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself Duo."  He declared in his calm, even voice.

"Well I've got to make the most of it."  The American said sourly, his voice dropping.  "Hey Tro, you gonna eat that?"  Trowa shook his head and pushed his untasted dessert across the table to Duo, who fell upon it with a will.

"What do you mean?"  Quatre asked, leaning closer to Trowa to catch Duo's words and further emphasising the conspiratorial air that had suddenly descended upon the trio.  Duo glanced to his left to where Heero was seated, saw that he was engaged in conversation with Treize and Wufei, then turned back to Quatre & Trowa.  

"Now don't get me wrong," He began in a _sotto voce_ undertone, "I love Heero dearly and no-one could be a better husband than he is."  Quatre and Trowa both held their peace at these words, although Heero and Duo's frequent and heated _contretemps_ did cross both their minds, and Quatre called to mind many lengthy telephone conversations with Duo, where the braided American regaled his friend with Heero's many shortcomings as a husband. "Oh I know we fight all the time and all, but that's nothing, just letting off a little steam."  Duo added, as if sensing their thoughts.  "But he's been working so hard lately that we never get any time to do stuff together.  He never takes me anywhere anymore.  I don't like to complain, but I do get bored just sitting around doing nothing every evening because he is working late at the office or in his study working on something or other, or even off on a business trip somewhere.  I don't even go with him on these trips any more because all that happens is that I get left behind to amuse myself at the hotel, while he is out at meetings and shit.  It never used to be like this.  His business trips used to be real fun, but lately, I dunno…  I swear to god, it's getting so bad that just going out for groceries is beginning to look exciting"

"Oh Duo," Quatre said sympathetically, "Why didn't you say?  You know that you can always come to us if you are bored."

"That's kind of you Q," Duo said with a wry smile, "But you and Tro would soon get tired of me hanging around you every evening.  You both work too and you need your evenings to yourselves."

Quatre opened his mouth to speak, but the protest he was about to offer died on his lips as he realised that Duo was quite right.

"Have you spoken to Heero about this?"  Trowa asked in his usual forthright manner.  Duo shook his head firmly and quickly looked over his shoulder once more to make sure that Heero was still occupied.  To his surprise Heero's chair was empty and Treize and Wufei were deep in conversation, their heads close together.  Assuming that Heero had gone to the men's room, he turned back to Quatre and Trowa.

"How can I say anything to him?" He replied, "He's worked so hard for so long to make the company a success, and now that it is, he is just making sure that it stays that way.  He provides very well for me, making sure that I never want for anything.  Because of him I don't have to work, so I can concentrate on my art.  He makes no _real_ demands on me whatsoever.  How can I complain to him about such a trivial matter?"

"But it's not trivial if it's making you unhappy."  Quatre said.

"Not really unhappy Q," Duo said, "Just a little disgruntled, and not so disgruntled that I would bother him with it when he's obviously so busy.  Things have been great since he got my ring back for me and we got back together (1).  He's been trying real hard to work at our relationship, and I don't want to jeopardise that by bringing this up now.  I know he loves me and I know that I matter to him.  He just can't give me his time at the moment.  I understand that."  Duo gave a decisive nod of his head, as if he had just convinced himself of something.  "Yeah, I understand," He repeated.  "I just hope that it doesn't last too long is all." He added despondently.

Quatre rose from his seat and walked around Trowa's chair to stand before his American friend.  As he did so he released Trowa's hand but trailed his fingers up his arm and across the back of his shoulders, relinquishing contact with his beloved's body only at the last possible moment.  This he did totally naturally and without any premeditation or conscious thought, driven by some deep-seated and subconscious desire for constant physical contact with his adored one.  Duo saw this and smiled.  He had noticed this same phenomenon in both Quatre and Trowa over the many years that he had known them.  His two friends loved each other with a fervour that words could not express.  He had never seen a bond as strong and intense as that which Quatre and Trowa shared.  God knew, he loved Heero with all his heart, but what Heero and he shared could in no way be compared to the pure and absolute devotion that these two felt for each other.  One could not exist for one second without the other, Duo was convinced of this, but this thought he pushed immediately from his mind, not even wanting to think about anything happening to any of his friends - nay, his family, as he now considered them.

"Come, dance with me."  Quatre held a finely boned hand out to Duo, which he clasped in his larger one and allowed himself to be led out into the throng of couples on the dance floor.  Quatre enfolded Duo in his arms and Duo returned the embrace, laying his head on Quatres shoulder.  They swayed together and moved in slow, circular motion around the dance floor, completely oblivious of the fact that the band were playing a lively two-step.  

Trowa watched them until they disappeared, engulfed by the crowd.  He guessed that Quatre's motive in asking Duo to dance had more to do with administering comfort than with any desire to 'cut a rug'.   Once they were out of sight he rose and shunted across into the chair that Quatre had just vacated, the better to listen in on the heated discussion taking place between Wufei and Treize.

"Look Treize, I'm not going to do it, so will you please shut up about it."  Wufei folded his arms across his chest and set his jaw in a defiant scowl.

"But Wufei, be reasonable."  Treize implored, but to no avail.  The Chinese ex-pilot had evidently said his last word on the subject under discussion.  Trowa smirked as he saw the all-too familiar look on Wufei's face.  What ever it was that Treize wanted, he was going to have a fight on his hands to get it.  "God, but you are impossible sometimes." Treize said, turning to Trowa in exasperation.  "Trowa, can't you talk some sense into him?"

"I doubt it."  Trowa replied dryly.  "What's the matter?"

"It's his eyes."  Treize said, and turned to Trowa with a look that held such worry and concern that a _frisson_ of alarm crept along his spine.  "He's been having trouble with headaches again, so I took him to see that specialist, you know, the one that he saw last year?"  Trowa nodded in acknowledgement and Treize continued.  "Well, he confirmed that Wufei's eyesight is deteriorating rapidly, and that at the current rate he will be completely blind within ten years." 

An involuntary gasp escaped Trowa's lips and he looked sharply at Wufei.  To his surprise Wufei returned his gaze with a curious expression, one that Trowa could not place.  One thing was certain though, Wufei's defiance had all but disappeared.

"Is there anything that can be done?"  Trowa asked, looking from Wufei to Treize, then back again.  Wufei snorted and looked away.  Treize shot him a weary sidelong glance, sighed heavily then turned back to Trowa.

"Yes there is," He said resignedly, "And this is just about where we came in.  I have been increasingly worried about the alarming rate at which Wufei's eyesight is deteriorating, and we have been consulting a leading ophthalmologist who it seems has developed a simple surgical procedure which would not actually reverse Fei's current condition, but it would arrest it.  In other words, his eyes would not get any better than they are now, but they would not get any worse either."

From the looks on the faces of both his friends, Trowa sensed that this was not the good news that it appeared to be.

"So what exactly is the problem?"  He asked with apprehension.

"Fei refuses to undergo the operation, _that_ is the problem."  Treize said wearily.

"But why Wufei?"  Trowa asked calmly.  Wufei turned hard, flinty eyes upon him.

"Don't you start!"  He spat venomously.  "He hasn't told you the whole story."  He swivelled his hard, angry gaze to his hapless husband.  "Go on, tell him the rest."

Trowa raised a serenely enquiring eyebrow at Treize.  The Russian noble passed a hand across an agitated brow, closed his ice-blue eyes as though collecting his thoughts, then spoke in a low voice.

"The procedure is not without a certain degree of risk."  He began.  "There is a 30% chance that the operation itself could cause immediate blindness."

"Oh my God!"  An uncharacteristic exclamation escaped Trowa.

"Exactly!"  Wufei said.  "So my choices are to either go blind right now, or to go blind slowly over the next 10 years.  An enviable choice, wouldn't you say?"

"But Fei, my pet," Treize interjected, clasping one of Wufei's hands in his much larger one, "It may not come to that.  Don't forget that by the same token there is a 70% chance of complete success.  A 70% chance Fei!"  Treize implored.  Wufei snorted derisively.  

"A 70% chance of success?  Huh, what do those quacks know?"  He said with scorn.  He snatched his hand from his husbands and folded his arms across his chest once again.

"Fei, they are trying to help you."  Treize spoke with an infinite patience that said that he had been over this ground before and was willing to go back over it as many times as it took.  "You wanted a second opinion," He continued, "So we got one, but all it did was confirm the diagnosis, the prognosis _and_ the prescribed treatment.  If you want a third opinion we will get one, and a fourth, a fifth or even a sixth.  But remember what Dr Scrivener said, every week we delay reduced the chances of success."  Wufei did not reply.  He glanced up, caught Trowa's eye and looked quickly and nervously away.  "And then of course," Trieze continued, "There's the good news.  Dr Scrivener says that once you have fully recovered from the operation, he can perform a simple laser surgery to correct the present damage and restore your sight to near normal.  Just think my pet,"  Treize took Wufei's hand once more, "No more spectacles."  Treize's encouraging tone was lost on Wufei, who shot him a withering look and snatched his hand away again.

"Leave. Me. Alone."  He said, punctuating every word.  "I don't want to talk about this."

Trowa, who had sat silently and thoughtfully throughout the entire exchange, fixed Wufei with a penetrating stare.  He was beginning to get an angle on what he thought might be happening here, and he set out to test his theory.

"What's wrong Wufei?" He asked, "Why don't you want to have the operation?  Yes, there is an element of risk, but I remember the days when the thought of risking your very life, with much shorter odds than this, would not have weighed with you for one second."

"Wufei turned on him with eyes that burned with indignant rage, but as they met the dispassionate, emerald green gaze, brows insouciantly raised in enquiry, the fire died and he visibly deflated.

"Why Wufei?"  Trowa persisted, his gaze calm but relentless.  

"I…, I…," Wufei stammered.  He looked at his husband, a silent appeal in his obsidian eyes.

"You what, my sweet?"  Treize asked gently.

Wufei looked into Treizes eyes, read the deep affection and genuine concern written therein, and gave in.  The many months of worry, anguish and fear that he had been suppressing by sheer strength of will and dogged determination finally overwhelmed him.  His façade of bullishness and ferocity crumbled as hot tears burst forth and flowed freely down his cheeks.

"I'm scared Trowa," He said in a hoarse whisper, "I'm so scared."  He stifled a sob and scrubbed at his tears in disgust.  Treize was at his side in a moment, solicitously cradling him in his arms and rocking him gently.

"Fei, Fei my pet," He murmured.    Wufei buried his face in his husband's broad chest while Treize stroked his hair gently to calm and sooth him.  

Trowa watched the scene that he had wrought with no regrets.  Now everything would be okay.  He rose, took Treize by the arm and bade him rise also, bringing Wufei with him.  He led them both through the sea of tables, nodding perfunctorily to several revellers who hailed him as he passed, to a small but well-appointed ante-room attached to the main banqueting hall where the dinner was being held.  He ushered them inside and Treize swiftly settled Wufei on a plush velvet settee, taking a seat next to him.

"You can stay here for as long as you like."  Trowa said as he hovered at the door.  "I will make sure that no-one disturbs you, but if you need anything just ring – the waiting staff will see to you."  He indicated a crewel-work bellrope  which descended from the ceiling and fell demurely beside the room's cosy fireplace."  He put a hand to the doorhandle as was about to withdraw and draw it to, when Wufei called him back.

"Trowa?" He said, his voice still a little broken.  Trowa froze in mid motion but said nothing.  His eyebrows, as usual, made the tacit enquiry.  "Thanks!" Wufei said, and smiled a thin, watery smile.  Trowa closed the door and left them.

After a word with the staff to ensure Wufei and Treize's privacy, Trowa returned to his table and found Quatre seated alone, a fretful frown creasing his brow.  However, as soon as the petit blond caught sight of his willowy husband weaving his way towards him his eyes immediately lit up and sparkled with happiness.  He caught Trowa's hands in his as soon as he came within grabbing distance.

"Oh Trowa, there you are."  He said with obvious relief, "I was beginning to wonder."

Trowa raised each of Quatres hands, still clasping his own, to his lips in turn and kissed the fingers of each.

"I'm sorry my love.  Wufei had a slight headache and Treize took him out for a breath of air.  I was just showing them to the rose arbour."  He hated lying to Quatre, but to tell him the truth now would only upset him and Trowa had no intention of putting any kind of a dampener on his beloved's evening.  "Where are Heero and Duo, dancing?"  He asked, more to change the subject than because he really wanted to know.

"I don't think so."  Quatre replied, pausing to smile brightly for a photographer who snapped a quick shot of Trowa and he as they sat together at the table.  "When Duo and I came back to the table after our dance," He continued, "Heero was sitting here all alone, looking all mean and moody about something.  He told Duo that he wanted to talk to him and took him off somewhere.  That was a few minutes ago, and then you came back."  The blond Arabian chewed his rosy lower lip as he looked up at his husband, worry evident in his bright blue eyes.  "Trowa, you don't think he was mad about Duo and I dancing together do you?  I know we did cuddle a bit, but Duo was upset and I was only trying to comfort him.   And besides, we've danced like that together hundreds of times and it has never bothered him before."

"No darling, I don't think he's angry at you."  Trowa hastened to reassure his highly sensitive little love.

"I do hope that Duo isn't in any trouble though.  Heero looked really mad about something."  Quatre looked more worried than ever.

"It's probably nothing much.  Duo probably left the cap off the toothpaste or something, you know how Heero is."  Trowa said, casting about him for something to divert Quatre's attention before he began to get too upset.  "Come and dance with me."  He said in desperation.  Trowa was not much of a one for dancing, though he did it extremely well, but he knew that Quatre enjoyed it, so he endured it for his love's sake.  Just as he had hoped, Quatre's eyes lit up at the idea.

"Okay."  He rose and led Trowa out onto the floor, Duo and Heero momentarily forgotten.

Out in the rose arbour, Duo was about to find out just what it was that Heero was 'mad' about.  When he had returned to the table after dancing with Quatre, Heero had _demanded_ a word with him and then promptly risen and walked away.  Duo had dutifully followed, wondering all the way what he had done to provoke his temperamental husband's ire this time.  However, when they had reached the arbour, Heero turned to Duo with a smile and took his hand.  He led him to a bench amongst the fragrant rose blossoms and sat down, pulling a confused Duo down beside him.

"So, what's up?"  Duo asked apprehensively

"I wanted to apologise."  Heero replied.

"For what?"  Duo asked with a confused frown.

"Listen Duo, I know that the past few months have not been much fun for you…"

"Oh Heero, you…"  Duo interposed but Heero cut him off.

"No Duo, hear me out first.  I know that I have been preoccupied with work and I have not paid much attention to you.  Now considering the problems that this has caused between us in the past, you bore it all with amazing fortitude, and said nothing.  I would like you to know that I appreciate that very much.  I know how hard it was for you, but you gave me the space I needed to put certain measures in place and you strengthened my conviction that I am doing the right thing."

"I don't understand Heero," Duo said shaking his head, "What _are_ you doing?"

"I'm giving up the business."  Heero stated calmly.  Duo's eyes widened in surprise and horror.

"Heero no!"  He exclaimed. "You worked so hard to make that company what it is today.   You can't sell up, not now that everything's going so well.  I won't let you do it.  I know how much it means to you."  

Heero's smile broadened.  He looked at his husband, and swore to himself that he had never loved him more than he did at this moment.  "Duo you amaze me."  He said.   "All your troubles would be over if I gave up the business, yet you still react like this.  You are just the most amazing person I know, and I love you so much."  He leaned forward and kissed Duo soundly on his slightly parted lips.  When they broke the kiss Duo tucked his legs up beneath him and snuggled up to Heero on the bench, placing his arms around his husband's trim waist and his head on his muscular chest.

"Now let me explain what is going to happen."  Heero said as he combed his fingers through Duo's unbraided hair.  "I'm not selling the business.  I have simply stepped down as an active partner and I have put a board of directors in place to run it for me.  They have been empowered to make all decisions and are under strict instructions not to bother me with anything.  I am going to give it a try for a year, and see what happens.  This year I intend to spend with you, doing whatever you want.  We can travel or stay home and do absolutely nothing for a year, it's up to you.  The only thing that is certain is that whatever we do, we do it together.  I am at your complete disposal, beginning tomorrow.    This is why I have been so busy these past few months.  I have been putting the structure in place so that I can step back and leave the company to run itself.  It was a mammoth task and I had only a few short months in which to accomplish it.  I set myself a deadline and I only just made it.  I had to tell you tonight because caught some rumours flying around this evening. I thought I had better tell you myself before someone else mentioned it.  My people are set to make a press release tomorrow so the financial press will be carrying the story by the late editions tomorrow evening, but it seems as though the news has leaked out somehow, as it usually does with these things.  

"Oh Heero," Duo looked up at his husband with eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. "You did all that for me?"

"All for you." Heero replied, "And I if I were less of a fool I would have done it sooner.  You know the saying 'You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone'?"  Duo nodded into his chest and Heero continued.  "I found out just how true that saying is when you left me last summer.  Those were the worst few months of my life, and just consider that statement in the light of a life that has had some pretty bad things happen.  I'm not sorry it happened though, because it gave me the kick in the pants that I needed to see what my stupidity was doing to you and to our relationship.  After you came back, I wracked my brains to see how I could keep the business and keep you at the same time, and I came to the conclusion that I couldn't.  So I did the only thing I could.  It might not work and we could end up destitute in a year's time, but somehow I don't think that that will happen.  I think that everything will be fine.  I don't ever want to risk losing you Duo; you are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Duo snuggled deeper into Heero's warm embrace and smiled to himself.  "I hope you realise that you have made a rod for your own back now lover."  He said slyly.

"Why is that?" Heero asked.

"Well," Duo replied, "Whenever I want to bend you to my will all I have to do is threaten to leave you and you'll be putty in my hands.  Ouch, that hurt Yuy!"  He exclaimed as Heero grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged hard.

In the small ante-chamber, Wufei and Treize were snuggled together in much the same way that Heero and Duo were.  Just as Trowa had promised, the room was tranquil and peaceful, and the couple were quite relaxed.  Treize stroked Wufei's silky hair, and murmured comforting phrases.

"Don't worry my sweet, everything will be alright."

"When I hear you say that I can almost believe that it will," Wufei said, "But I don't see how it can be.  I have been so worried and scared for so long now, that it has almost driven me mad."

"But why didn't you tell me?"  Treize asked.

"I just couldn't."  Wufei replied.  "I couldn't tell anyone.  You know those nightmares I've been having?"

"The ones about the war?"

"Kind of.  Well they weren't about the war at all.  You just assumed that they were and I did nothing to disabuse you, since I couldn't' tell you the truth.  I would dream that I would be lying on the operating table, and that you would be there with me.  I would see your face just before succumbing to the anaesthetic.  Then I would be lying on a bed somewhere, in some sort of recovery room I assume, and I would hear your voice saying to me that everything went fine with the operation.  I would ask you when they were going to take the bandages off my eyes, and you wouldn't answer me.   Then I would put my hand up to my eyes and I would realise that there _were_ no bandages on my eyes.  I couldn't see you."  Wufei,s voice broke at this point, and Treize held him tightly.

"Oh my love, no wonder you were so frightened.  You should have told me."  He murmured.

"What would have been the point?"  Wufei replied hoarsely.  "There was nothing you could have done.  You couldn't stop me from dreaming.  I had the same horrible dream over and over again.  That the last time I ever saw your face was just before the operation.  I couldn't go through with it.  I just couldn't take the chance of that happening.  At least this way, I would see you for ten more years, albeit increasingly poorly."  He laughed a little at this, and Treize took heart.  If he could still laugh all was not lost.  "You know what Trowa said about my risking my life without a qualm during the war?"  Wufei continued, "Well he was right, but I didn't have you then, well, not until the end anyway.  But now I can't risk never seeing your face again.  I couldn't bear it… I just couldn't."  Wufei gave way to a small sob, which he managed to stifle into a hiccup.

"Listen my pet," Treize said firmly, "You have to have that operation.  You have to recover from this.  I am not going to let you go blind, not now and not in ten year's time.  Here's what we are going to do.  I will phone Dr Scrivener's office tomorrow and make an appointment for the surgery."

"But Treize…"  Wufei began, but Trieze cut him off.

"No buts.  We are going to do this.  Everything will be okay, I promise you, and you will have nothing but pleasant dreams from now on."  Just how he was going to make good on this promise Treize  had no earthly idea, but he had to, and, he though, he would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

"But what if it doesn't work?"  Wufei was not so easily swayed.  His  scepticism was palpable but Treize waded through it.

"It _will_ work."  He stated categorically. "I will stay with you the whole time.  My face will be the last thing you see when you go under and the first thing you see when you come round."

"Will you stay with me during the operation?"  Wufei asked timidly.  

"Of course, if that's what you want."  Treize replied, encouraged by Wufei's apparent acceptance of the situation.  He spoke with an airy insouciance, but his heart chilled at the prospect.  Treize might have been a warmonger in his youth, but that was a long time ago.  Now, even the mere thought of bloodshed made him blanche.

"Good."  Wufei nodded.  Then suddenly doubtful, he asked, "What if they won't let you stay?"  

"They will."  Treize assured him.  "I will be with you the whole time and everything will be okay.  And then when you are all better, we will go to Dr Scrivener for the laser surgery, and then you will be able to see me without these."  He tapped the frame of Wufei's spectacles lightly with his finger.  Wufei laughed again.

"I can't wait."  He said.

After a few dances and some time spent dutifully mingling with other guests, Quatre and Trowa returned to their table to find Heero, Duo, Treize and Wufei all seated round the table, sipping champagne and chatting together amiably.  As they took their seats Treize summoned a passing waiter and with a languid flick of his wrist ordered a glass of champagne for each of the new arrivals.  All of this he accomplished without uttering a single word.

"Hey Q, Tro, you guys, guess what…"  Duo launched into an animated resume of his and Heero's discussion in the rose arbour.  When he had heard the gist of the story, Trowa left Quatre to smother Duo with hugs of congratulation, and turned to Wufei and Treize.  

"Is everything okay?"  He asked.  Wufei looked up at Treize and nodded.

"Everything is fine."  Trieze confirmed.  "I am going to make the arrangements tomorrow.  And now," He said loudly, rising from his seat, "I would like to propose a toast.  'To Friends!'"  He said, raising his crystal champagne flute.

"To Friends!"  The other five repeated in unison, rising to their feet and raising their glasses in response.  They each took a sip of the sparkling wine and smiled at each other.

Yes, Trowa nodded to himself, it had been a very good evening, and it had just got better.  He idly wondered whether a costume ball might be an idea for next year.

_(1) – Reference to a previous story 'Two Components'_


	6. Marsayas Flayed

Marsayas Flayed

By DRL

                Dr Sally Po paused in the doorway to the lounge of the exclusive gentlemen's club and looked around the room.  She spotted her quarry almost immediately, his stately, almost regal bearing marking him out from other men, as it had always done.  She had hoped to study him unobserved for a moment or two, but as if sensing her presence, he looked up suddenly and his cold, piercing blue eyes fixed her with a look that bored through her like a gimlet.  Involuntarily she caught her breath, and froze momentarily.  However, as his features softened into a welcoming smile, she chided herself for being a fool and made her way across the room towards him.  Ever the gentleman, he rose as she approached and extended a hand.  She reciprocated by extending her hand, taking his as if to shake it.  To her surprise, however, he took her hand, and using it to draw her to him, kissed her warmly on both cheeks.  

"Sally, it's a pleasure to see you again."  He said in the rich but mellow voice she remembered so well. 

"The pleasure is all mine Your Excellency."  She replied.

 He artfully steered her to a comfortable looking chesterfield armchair, upholstered in oxblood leather, which stood beside the one he had just vacated.   She watched him as he resumed his seat.  His economy and ease of movement lent his every gesture a grace and elegance that she had only ever seen in one other man – Trowa Barton-Winner.  Her keen eyes took in everything in the instant it took for him to sit down, the exquisitely tailored navy barathea jacket that fitted his lean yet muscular torso like a glove, the matching pants, equally well cut, the pale blue chambray shirt, open at the neck which, coupled with the fact that the jacket was left unfastened, gave the ensemble a casual rather than smart appearance.  His tan belt matched the shade of his tan brogues perfectly, and there was scarcely a mark on either.

   As he sat down and gracefully crossed one leg over the other, she studied his face.  It had been at least five years since they had last met, but the years had been kind to him.  The only discernable sign was the slight silvering of the hair at his temples and this, instead of adding years added only distinction to his mien.   The rest of his hair was the same deep auburn it had always been (not unlike Trowa Barton-Winner's she mused), and was neatly cut and coifed.  His hands rested on his knee, one neatly atop the other, and she noticed his fingernails, pristinely manicured and buffed to a dull gleam.  The left hand was uppermost and her eye caught the glint of a ray of light from the chandelier overhead as it reflected off the gold band that encircled his ring finger.  She stared at the ring, the badge proclaiming his success where she had failed, and as all the old resentment came flooding back, she wondered whether this meeting was such a good idea after all.  Suddenly she looked up and the piercing stare caught her again.  Deeply embarrassed to be caught staring at his wedding ring, she felt her cheeks burn and she quickly averted her gaze.  He gallantly diffused the potentially awkward situation by picking an inconsequential subject with which to begin the conversation.

"Please, call me Treize."  He said affably.  "I get enough of 'Your Excellency' from just about everyone else so I think we can dispense with such formalities between friends."  She smiled in acknowledgement, but the rhetorical nature of the statement required no verbal response so she remained silent.  "Thank-you for coming, I appreciate it very much."  He continued.

"Once you'd told me about Wufei's condition I couldn't _not_ come."  She replied.  "I had no idea it was this serious."  

"No-one did, except for me..."  He began, and then broke off, rolling his eyes heavenward and shaking his head in a self-reproving gesture.  "Do forgive me, I'm forgetting my manners.  Can I offer you some refreshment?"

"Oh, um… just a cup of coffee please, thank-you."  She replied.  He summoned a waiter by dint of simply looking up and catching his eye, and proceeded to give his order for coffee for two in the civil but detached  manner of one who took servitude for granted.  When the waiter had departed on his errand, he continued.

"As I was saying, no-one was aware of just how serious the problem was, not even the others."  By this she knew that he meant the other ex-pilots.  "The only reason _I_ knew was because one day I physically dragged him to see an ophthalmologist when the strength of the prescription for his glasses had increased for the third time in as many years.  He has his eyes tested every year, and each time he needs a stronger prescription.  I remember making a joke that at that rate he would not be able see at all before too long.  Fei didn't laugh, and then it suddenly occurred to me that he was right, it was not very funny at all.  In fact, it was quite worrying.  I suggested that perhaps he ought to see a specialist and typically he jumped down my throat."  He gave a self-conscious little laugh at this statement, which immediately endeared him to her.  "I kept on at him though and eventually wore him down."

"I suppose that this was when he called me and asked for the name of a good ophthalmologist and I put him in touch with Steven Scrivener."  She took up the tale.  "I had absolutely no inkling that there was anything wrong, not even then.  I had often suggested to him that he might investigate laser surgery.  I thought it might obviate the need for those glasses of his.  After all, he complained enough about having to wear them."

"Tell me about it."  He murmured dryly.

The waiter arrived with their coffee at this point, and taking advantage of the lull in the conversation caused by their pausing to add cream and sugar to their respective tastes, she eyed him surreptitiously as she thought about their current situation.  She was sitting in the lounge of a smart gentleman's club, discussing the only man she had ever loved with that selfsame man's husband!  Add to that the fact that this husband was head of one of the wealthiest, and most powerful of Europe's noble families and also the most charismatic man she had ever met, small wonder her head was spinning.  She had known him for a great many years, at least since her service days, when they were both Oz officers.  She had not known him intimately back then, but of course she had known _of_ him – the great General Kushrenada.  Since Wufei and he had wed, however, she had met him socially only very rarely despite her intimate acquaintance with Wufei, since in no way  did she move in the exalted social circles that he always had and that Wufei had been propelled into.  Whenever she and Wufei got together for drinks or lunch, infrequent though these occasions were, he was never present, for which she was thankful.  This was why she was so surprised to receive his call asking, no imploring her to meet him.  She had at first been reluctant to do so, having noted the fact that he had asked her to meet with him, not him and Wufei.  However, once she had found out the reason for the summons, nothing could have kept her away.   She stirred her coffee, took a sip, and replaced the dainty porcelain cup in its saucer on the coffee table that stood between them.

 "He was always very dismissive whenever I mentioned laser surgery in the past," She resumed her narrative, "He was not interested in the least.  I didn't press the issue, because it was not that big a deal.  If he didn't want it, it didn't really matter, but I was under the impression that we were only talking about a simple case of astigmatism."

"In the beginning I think we were."  He said.  "The first we knew for certain of anything more serious was after our first visit to Dr Scrivener."  She noticed his use of the words 'our' and 'we'.  It was almost as if he were suffering along with Wufei.  "He certainly did not pull any punches.  He told us that Wufei had developed an acute form of keratoconus which was unfortunately complicated by an equally acute form of glaucoma.  His prognosis was that either Wufei undergoes corrective surgery immediately, or he would be completely blind certainly within 10 years, but he will probably have lost all but the vaguest peripheral vision within 5 years."  Sally nodded sagely.

"It would have been such a simple condition to treat but for the glaucoma."  She said with a sigh.

"Yes."  He agreed.  "Wufei was prepared to agree to the cornea transplant that Dr Scrivener suggested up until the point where he mentioned the fact that the glaucoma would cause severe complications to an otherwise routine surgical process and may even cause immediate and irreversible blindness.  The revelation of that fact definitely gave him pause, but at that point he was still prepared to at least consider it.  We went home that same day.  We had arranged to stay with the Barton-Winners for a few days while we were in town, but after the consultation Fei had too much on his mind to be sociable so I made excuses to Quatre and Trowa and we flew back to France."

"Did you tell the others what was going on?"  She asked.

"No, not until relatively recently."  He replied.  "The first any of them heard about the whole dilemma was actually at the Winner Foundation Dinner & Dance a few days ago."

"Hardly dinner table conversation."  She said, raising an eyebrow.

"No indeed."  He agreed.  "Everyone else had left the table to dance or mingle or whatever, and I took the opportunity to start in on Wufei once more.  At the time we were constantly on a merry-go-round of me trying to persuade him to have the surgery and he categorically refusing.  Once again I attempted to persuade him and once again he issued the usual _nolle proseque_.  I noticed Trowa Barton-Winner seated at my elbow, and without a thought for the fact that we were supposed to be keeping the whole thing from the others for the time being, I proceeded to lay the facts before him and appealed to him to talk some sense into Fei."  

"And did he?"  She asked with a wry smile.  She had developed a deep admiration and respect for Trowa over the years while working with him on several charitable projects, and if anyone could persuade Wufei, she was sure that Trowa could.    He paused in thought for a moment before replying.

"Do you know, I think he did?"  He said finally, though he still wore a puzzled frown.  Her smile broadened.  Why was she not in the least bit surprised to hear this?  

"What made Wufei so adamant against having the surgery, and what did Trowa say to make him change his mind?"  She asked.

"Well that's just it," He replied meditatively, "He didn't really _say_ anything.  Let me take you back just a little.  On our way back home after our first consultation with Dr Scrivener, Wufei was seriously considering having the operation.  Dr Scrivener had been quite up-front and honest with us.  He told us that there was usually a 90-95% success rate for cornea transplants, but in Fei's case this would be reduced to 70%, due to the glaucoma complication.  This notwithstanding, Fei was all set to go for it.  He was not going to let a little thing like a 30% chance of immediate and irreversible blindness deter him.  This was how things stood by the time we finally got to bed.  Fei slept fitfully at best that night.  He lay awake for long periods and when he did sleep he was awoken with vivid nightmares which caused him to awaken in a sweat.  I didn't sleep much myself either – how could I with Fei in such distress?  I simply tried to calm and soothe him as best I could.  I didn't attach much significance to the dreams at the time.  Fei was reluctant to talk about them.  I asked him if they were about the war and he didn't actually say yes now I think about it, but he didn't say no either, so I just assumed that they were.  After all, it _has_ happened before, albeit a long time ago, and what else could trouble his mind so at night?" 

She controlled her anger at this statement through an effort of will. 'Oh the conceit of the man', she thought as she listened to him.  His implication was quite clear.  He provides so perfect a home and so idyllic a lifestyle for his young consort that any occurrence that could possibly mar his happiness to the extent of troubling his sleep had to have occurred prior to their conjunction.  Never mind the fact that he is currently facing the most frightening and the most important decision of his young life so far.  She refocused on his words as he continued his narrative.

"…morning he seemed okay at first, but he then he completely knocked me for six by telling me that he was not going to have the operation after all and no amount of entreaty or coercion on my part would move him one inch.  Thus began the merry-go-round ride I told you of earlier."  

"So what did Trowa do?"  She asked.

"As I said, I'm not quite sure, but it was definitely something he said that turned the tide.  He merely asked Fei why he wouldn't have the operation.  He asked him twice, then Fei suddenly broke down.  I believe he wept a little, or as close as Fei ever gets to weeping anyway, and he simply admitted that he was frightened.  Frightened and worried and had been for weeks.  All the weeks I had been coaxing and cajoling him."

'Of course he had, you oaf', she mentally screamed at him.  'And all you did was harass and bully him instead of offering comfort and solace.  Small wonder he had nightmares every night.'  She forced her features to remain passive in an attempt to mask the rage she felt at this arrogant patrician who thought only of his own wants and needs, riding rough-shod over those of his sick and suffering husband.  And her Wufei was married to this man?  'Her Wufei' – he had never been hers had he?  It was this fact that made her hatred of Treize Kushrenada so complete and yet so futile.  He had never been hers.  To him she had been no more than a friend at best and a begrudging ally at worst.  It had always been Treize.  For all she knew, Wufei had never even thought of her 'that way'.  She knew his preferred gender of course, but he had been married once before hadn't he, so he must have had at least a passing interest in women.  'Alas, not this woman' she mused resignedly.

She looked across at his handsome, guileless face, and she softened.  It wasn't his fault.  She was sure he meant well.  He was devoted to Wufei - that much was obvious, even to her.  It was not his fault that he did not understand his husband one little bit, not even after, what was it, twelve or thirteen years of marriage?  His type were different to ordinary people.  The wealth and privilege they were born to made them arrogant and selfish, but they didn't know any better.  One might just as well blame a cat for chasing mice.  She smiled at him encouragingly as he continued.

"It was then that I found out that the nightmares that he had been having, which, incidentally, became increasingly more frequent and harrowing, were not about the war at all."

"Really?"  She said, her voice dripping with an irony that he missed entirely.

"No, they were about the operation."  She bit back the disparaging retort that sprang to her lips and allowed him to continue unchallenged.  "He had been having a recurring dream where he saw me prior to the operation, but it was to be the last time he ever saw me because the operation was unsuccessful and he would never see again.  He was so afraid that it might come true that he just couldn't go through with it."  She closed her eyes, as if doing so would lessen the anguish that she knew Wufei must have been going through, and going through it alone because his friends  were unaware of the situation, and this peacock that sat before her  was too absorbed with his own interests to see further than the nose on his oh so handsome face.

"Poor Wufei."  She murmured.  When she slowly opened her eyes she saw him looking at her with concern.

"Are you alright?"  He asked, leaning towards her and laying a hand solicitously on her arm.

"Yes, I'm fine.  Could I possibly have a glass of water?"  She asked hoarsely.  His story and now his concern for her had brought a sudden lump to her throat, and even now tears pricked at her eyes.  As adeptly as he had done with the coffee, he summoned a waiter and ordered the water, tacitly implying that delay would not be tolerated.  Nor was there any.  The waiter returned in the twinkling of an eye with a water glass on a silver salver.  She sipped the proffered water, blinked back the threatening tears and gave him a weak and watery smile.  "Thank-you, I'm fine now."  She assured him.

"I am so sorry Sally."  He said.  "It was not my intention to upset you in telling you all this.  I know that you care for Fei very much, and I should perhaps have been a little more tactful.  Please forgive me."  She blinked wide, surprised eyes at him, wondering whether he really knew just how much she cared for 'Fei'.  

"It's alright Treize," She said, realising that this was the very first time ever that she had actually addressed him by his christian name, "Please carry on."

"If you can bear with me for just a little longer, I am coming to the reason why I asked you here."  He said.  "After Fei's little breakdown, he seemed less, how shall I put it, stubborn and more open to reason.  I managed to get him to agree to the operation, simply by assuring him that everything would be alright.  Well, as you are well aware, I am in no position to back up this assertion and I only did it because it seemed the right thing to do at the time.  Fei needed to hear something positive, so that is just what I gave him, and in my own defence I have to say that it did him the power of good.  Surely the very fact that he actually believed me proves that.  His eyes sparkled and he actually laughed for the first time in weeks."  His obvious joy at this brought a smile to her face despite herself.  He would be so much easier to despise if he didn't love Wufei so much.  

"The operation has been arranged for next Monday, which is only three days away.  From the night of the Dinner &Dance to the day I contacted you I had been racking my brains trying to find a way to make good on the promise I made to Fei, but the simple truth of the matter is that I cannot.  There is nothing that anyone can physically do to influence the outcome of the surgery.  It is not even a case of Dr Scivener doing a good job or a bad job.  It is all down to Wufei and his eyes' physiology.  If the fluid pressure builds up in either one or both of his eyes during the operation, then disaster may well strike.  If it does not, then complete success will reign supreme.  It is completely in the lap of the gods and they will dice for the outcome."  He sat back in his seat and for the first time since they had sat down together she noticed his self-assurance flag just a little.

"What is it that you would like me to do?"  She asked gently.  He fixed her with his cool gaze.

"Be there."  He replied.  "I would like you to be there for Fei.  He would go to that theatre with complete confidence if you were there, I know he would.  I wondered if you might perhaps ask Dr Scrivener to allow you to assist him or something.  Is that sort of thing allowed?  If not, then if you could just be there before he goes in, just to reassure him.  It won't affect the outcome, but at least he wont' be frightened.  Would you do that?  Please?  For Fei?"  She thought that this was probably as close as he had ever come to begging for something in his whole life, and the fact that it was for someone else and not himself lifted him a notch or two in her esteem.  

"Of course I will."  She replied with a broad smile.  "I'll contact Dr Scrivener this afternoon."  She glanced at her watch.  "Hopefully he will not be in surgery.  Once I have explained the circumstances, I'm sure that there will be no problem about my assisting him with the operation.  As I have explained to you before, this branch of medicine is not really my speciality, but I can certainly assist."  He took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands.  When he raised his head his smile was wan and his eyes glistened suspiciously.

"How?"  He asked in a voice choked with emotion, "How can I ever thank you…?"  He began, but she raised a quelling hand.

"It is I who should be thanking you, for giving me the opportunity to help."  She glanced at her watch once again.  "I really have to get back to the hospital now, but please don't worry about a thing.  I will arrange things with Dr Scrivener.  And, don't say anything to Wufei just yet.  Let me think of some plausible explanation for my being there first.  I take it that this conversation never happened?"

"What conversation?"  He replied, his features blankly confused.  She nodded in acknowledgement and bent to pick up her handbag  "Can I take you anywhere?"  He rose and offered her his hand to help her from her seat.  "I have the Barton-Winners' car and driver at my disposal."

"Thank-you, no."  She replied.  "I'm parked right around the corner."

"Then allow me to see you to your car."  He surprised her once again by offered her his arm, and she hesitated before she apprehensively slid hers through, glancing around her to see if anyone was staring.  No-one paid them any heed and as she gained confidence, the woman in her came to the fore and she began almost preening herself.  She even found herself nodding regally to the commissionaire in acknowledgement as he opened the door to allow them egress from the club.  Her, Sally Po stepping out on the arm of His Excellency Treize Kushrenada.  This was definitely one to tell the girls back at the hospital! 

As they walked along the fashionable street towards her waiting car, she noticed admiring glances cast in their direction from several of the well-dressed men and women they passed.  He seemed totally oblivious to the attention he was commanding and while she fairly basked in it, she wondered, and not for the first time, how Wufei, not exactly  an extrovert at the best of times, coped with the attention that being the consort of this very public figure brought him.   She relished for a moment the feel of the softness of the fabric of his jacket, the strength of the arm within it, the smell of his cologne.  She wondered whether, being this close to him, she could detect what it was that Wufei saw in this man.  No, she could not see it, would never see it.  Yes, he was devastatingly handsome and yes, he was fabulously wealthy, both of which were definite pluses.  She would be lying if she said that she did not feel a _frisson_ of excitement, walking down the street on his arm like this, but this was merely excitement in terms of the adventure, not sexual excitement.  No, she could never love him. 

Once again she thought of the paradoxical nature of their situation.  She wondered what he would say were she to say to him right now 'Kushrenada, I am in love with your husband.  I always have been and I always will be.  And what's more, I hate you for having him when I cannot, because you certainly don't deserve him.  Well, that is to say I would like to hate you, but I cannot because much as I hate to admit it, there is much in you that I admire.'    No, she would never say it.  Not to him and not to another living soul, and just to push the thoughts from her mind she said the first thing that came to her head.

                "Where is Wufei right now?"  She asked.

                "He is at the Barton-Winner's.  They are kindly putting us up until Fei is well enough to go home."

                "Where did you tell him you were going this morning?"  He laughed lightly in that endearing, self-conscious way he had whenever he spoke about his husband.  She had to admit that she found it kind of cute. 

                "Shopping."  He replied.  "One sure way to make certain that he would not offer to come with me

                "But now you have to bring home some evidence of your shopping spree."  She said as she eyed the expensive trinkets and bijouterie in the windows of the stores that they passed.

                "That will not be a problem, I assure you."   He replied.  She deliberately slowed their pace and stopped alongside a bright red convertible 2-seater roadster, which had the top down due to the clement weather.

"This is mine."  She said.  

                "Just like Wufei," He said with another little laugh, "He likes sports cars too." He walked around the car and opened the driver's door to allow her access.  He had such impeccable manners she thought to herself.  She suddenly remembered Wufei telling her this once, some while ago during one of their all too infrequent meetings.  She little thought that she would one day have the opportunity of testing the veracity of this statement first hand.  Before she climbed inside he kissed her on both cheeks once again, and did she perhaps detect a little more warmth than there had been that morning?  "Goodbye Sally," He said with sincerity, "And thank-you.  I will be for ever in your debt"

                "You're very welcome."  She replied.  "I will be in touch."  And as she drove away her lips broke into a devilish smile.  'Hmm' she thought to herself 'having Treize Kushrenada in ones debt for ever could be a situation with distinct possibilities.


	7. Deus ex Machina

Deus ex Machina

By DRL

                His Excellency Treize Kushrenada hurried along the corridors of the clinic, his mind frantically trying to calculate the length of time he had been out.  He passed a pair of nurses in starched uniforms, who giggled girlishly as he passed and a formidable-looking female doctor in a pristine white lab coat, who unashamedly gave him an appraising glance, almost nodding with approval.  He was oblivious to both, however, his mind now focussed on one thing only – getting back to Wufei.  

                He had left the room where Wufei lay in anaesthetic-induced slumber for what he thought would be a moment only, to give news of Wufei's operation, or such news as he had anyway, to their friends.  He had not wanted them to worry unduly, as he knew that Quatre Barton-Winner particularly was wont to do.  He had not counted on the nearest public telephone being so far from Wufei's room, however, and consequently he had spent much more time than he had intended, and he half regretted his decision.  As it was, it had taken him so long to find the telephone that he had vouchsafed himself only sufficient time to phone the Maxwell-Yuys, theirs being the first telephone number to spring to his mind, entrusting to them the task of passing the news on to Quatre & Trowa Barton-Winner.

                As he walked the image he had been trying to expel from his mind returned again, unbidden.   An image of a post-operative Wufei, unseeing and woozy, waking up alone and confused.  'No,' He thought, 'That must never happen.'  He almost broke into a run, as undignified as that may have been.  He finally re-entered Wufei's room to find that his worst fears had indeed been realised.  Wufei was sitting bolt upright in the bed, very much awake.

                "Who are you?  What do you want?"  He demanded, with a ferocity that surprised Treize, considering only minutes ago he had been strongly under the influence of a general anaesthetic.  Despite the obvious hostility, Treize could also detect an underlying panic in Wufei's voice, and he mentally chided himself for ever having left the room.

                "It's me Fei, I'm so sorry."  He rushed to his husband's bedside, taking the trembling hands in his.  Wufei wrenched his hands free and, balling them into fists, lashed out in Treize's general direction.   His eyes were covered with a surgical dressing so he could see nothing, but he followed his other senses and found his mark. 

                "Your'e a bastard Treize."  Wufei cried out in a voice shrill with anger, "You left me – how could you?"

                Treize saw the blows coming but took no evasive action.  Wufei was in no condition to do him any real harm, even if he had really meant him any.  Instead he allowed the fists to connect with his unresisting body.  Despite Wufei's obvious rage there was very little force behind the blows and Treize caught the tiny wrists in his hands, stilling the young man's motion.  

                "Wufei stop this!" He said in a stentorian voice.  "You have to lay still or you may do yourself some damage."  After a half-hearted attempt to free himself, which Treize effortlessly countered, Wufei slumped back against the bedhead as if suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be a convalescent. 

                "You said you would stay with me," Wufei said accusingly, his tone a little more moderate but still terse and angry, "You promised."  

                Treize released Wufei's wrists and, folding one leg beneath him, sat on the bed and placed a strong, comforting arm around Wufei's thin shoulders.  Wufei leaned heavily against his husband's body, but when he made as if to lay his head on Treize's shoulder a bolt of pain shot through his head, drawing a sharp hiss from Wufei's lips.

                "Are you in pain my pet?"  Treize asked, turning steely but concerned blue eyes on Wufei, who nodded gingerly.  As he did so, he winced with pain again and Treize rose with a swift and fluid motion which disturbed Wufei not at all.  "I'll send for the doctor."  He depressed a button that was mounted within easy reach of the bed, and then proceeded to fuss with Wufei's pillows in an attempt to settle him more comfortably.  

                Within an impressively few minutes, a smiling Dr Scrivener entered the room, flanked by the same two nurses Treize had passed in the corridor, although he was unaware of this fact, not having previously registered them in his haste.  Now they were sober and professional in their manner, merely nodding a respectful acknowledgement of his presence in the room, their attention focussed on Wufei.  They gently ushered Treize aside as they set to work checking Wufei over with their various instruments and monitors, which they wielded with consummate skill.  Treize looked on in helpless bewilderment as they worked.  

                "Well now young man," The good doctor said jovially as he stood beside Wufei's bed, "How do we feel?"  

                "Sick."  Wufei replied hoarsely.  He then proceeded to lean over to one side and retch violently.  

                The nurses reacted immediately, and only the timely action of one of them with a kidney bowl averted disaster.  The next few minutes were a nightmare for Treize, and he could only imagine how unbearable they must have been for Wufei.  For one reason or another Wufei had not eaten much during the 36 hours preceding his operation, so in theory his stomach should have been virtually empty.  Contrary to this logic, however, his stomach contents, such as they were, were copiously, violently and repeatedly ejected into the kidney bowls that the nurses kept producing like rabbits out of a hat.  The spasms of nausea that gnawed at Wufei's gut wracked his body, causing him to double over, but any movement of his head caused him such intense pain that he cried out.  

Treize stood inertly by, powerless to assist or comfort Wufei in any way.  He had taken an involuntary step towards the bed when he had first heard Wufei cry out in pain, but Dr Scrivener, his ever-present smile for once stricken from his lips, had made it quite clear that he either stayed back or left the room.  He listened as Dr Scrivener barked orders that the nurses hastened to follow.  One of them left the room, returning with various hypodermic syringes filled with he knew not what.  All he knew was that they were pumping the contents into his poor dragon's body, and his poor dragon did not like it one little bit.  

"Treize, where are you?" Wufei called out at one point, a desperate plea that rent Treize's heart.  

"I'm here my love, I'm right here."  He replied, frustrated with his helplessness.

"Treize, help me," Wufei cried again, "It hurts so much."

"I know it does my pet, but there's nothing I can do."  

Wufei called out his name once more and vainly reached out his hand towards Treize before another wave of nausea overtook him and he withdrew the hand and clutched at his stomach.   At this point Treize would have given anything, unto the half of his kingdom, to have been allowed to take Wufei's hand, just to give him a modicum of physical comfort, but it was not to be.  Mindful of the fact that Wufei's eyes were bound and he could not see, Treize could only imagine his poor husband's fear and disorientation, being able to hear what was gong on around him but not to see.  He was not even able to see the kidney bowls he was retching into, a fact which made the nurses' job doubly difficult.

                Eventually Wufei seemed to calm down, though whether this was a natural abatement or due to the drugs he had been given Treize neither knew nor cared.  He was simply relieved that Wufei's suffering appeared to be over.  After a final bout of unproductive retching, he slumped back against the headboard, spent and exhausted.  Dr Scrivener turned to Treize, his smile having returned.  He drew the stricken Russian to one side, out of Wufei's earshot, although Treize cast a few glances back over his shoulder, longing to be at Wufei's side.

                "He should be alright now," Said Dr Scrivener, "I've given him something for the pain and the vomiting".   

                "Dr Scrivener, what the hell just happened?"  Treize asked in a voice tight with trepidation.

                "Oh, nothing at all to worry about Your Excellency."  The Doctor said airily.  "The nausea is a common reaction to the anaesthetic, except in Wufei's case it was a bit more extreme than usual.  I'm not quite sure why that was, but it's almost certainly nothing.  Now the head pain, that is a bit more worrying, but it still doesn't necessarily mean anything."  He added quickly as he saw Treize's eyes widen in horror.  "The operation went very well," Dr Scrivener hastened to reassure him, "And I expect Wufei to make a full recovery.  You know that post operative recovery for an operation of this type is a lengthy process, and it can take up to two years before Wufei fully recovers his vision.  Then we can begin the laser surgery to correct the damage already done."  Treize nodded.

                "Yes, I understand that Doctor, thank-you very much.  But tell me, when his eyes are unbound, will he be able to see?"  This was a crucial point considering Wufei's recurring nightmare, which had made an unwelcome return during the past few nights, and Treize knew that this would be one of Wufei's first questions.

                "Yes, of course."  Dr Scrivener seemed surprised at the question.  "As I said, everything went well.  He won't exactly have 20:20 vision, and at first his sight will seem much worse than it was before, but this is perfectly normal.  His sight will return gradually over the next few months, but as I said, it could take up to two years for full vision to return.  I don't say that it _will_ take this long, but if it does, there is no need for worry."  Treize breathed a heavy, relieved sigh.

                "Thank-you Doctor.  When can I take him home?"  The second question Treize knew he would be asked.

                "Oh I think we'll keep him here under observation for a few days, especially after this…" Dr Scrivener waved a hand casually in the direction of Wufei's bed, where the nurses were settling their patient and clearing up after the recent drama, "You can probably take him home in 3-4 day's time, so long as he experiences no more pain and his eyes show no signs of rejection."  At Treize's confused frown he elucidated.  "Wufei's newly transplanted corneas will be treated as foreign bodies by his immune system, just as any other transplanted organ, and are subject to the same risk of rejection as his body attempts to combat and rid itself of what it sees as an enemy invader, so to speak.  Extremely effective measures are taken against this, however, which is why organ transplants are very successful nowadays.  It's only a minor risk though, and nothing to worry about."  The doctor beamed and it crossed Treize's mind that if one was to believe everything this convivial man said, and he freely admitted that it was very difficult not to, so much did he inspire confidence, one would never worry about anything ever again.  

"There is nothing more that I can do for him," The doctor continued, "Except keep an eye on him.  All I can prescribe now, apart from a few painkillers, is some T.LC. which I think _you_ can administer better than anyone here.  He has been through a harrowing few weeks so a great deal of rest and relaxation is just what this doctor orders.  Remember though, no heavy labour or vigorous activity when he gets home.  Light exercise is fine, but nothing arduous or strenuous.  This is very important because his sutures will remain in place for at least a year, and they must not be pulled or strained in any way, at least for the first few months of healing."  

                "Yes Doctor."  Treize said, although over his dead body would Wufei undertake labour of any kind, strenuous or otherwise.  He would lay back and be pampered and cosseted to within an inch of his life for the next two years if Treize had anything to do with it, and he certainly had.

                "Now we'll leave the two of you alone Your Excellency."  The doctor said in a lowered voice, leaning conspiratorially towards Treize.  "If you need anything then ring for assistance, other than that he won't be disturbed until the morning.  Feel free to use the bedroom in the back if you would like to remain overnight.  Do remember though, no strenuous activity."

                Treize looked at the doctor through narrowed suspicious eyes that searched the man's face, trying to discern whether there was any underlying meaning to his words.  All he saw, however, was a round, jovial, kindly face, smiling openly and honestly as always.  Treize's face broke into an answering smile, and, taking the other man's hand, he wrung it earnestly and warmly.  He liked this man enormously, who had understood and dealt so well with his fiery dragon.  Even when the good doctor had fallen foul of the Chinese young man's quick temper, and this not necessarily because of anything the doctor had said or done wrong but because of Wufei's own insecuritys and uncertainty, Dr Scrivener had merely smiled through the tirade, waiting until Wufei's temper had flared and quenched, then either continued the consultation or adjourned the proceedings, whichever he deemed best for Wufei under the circumstances.  This man, who addressed Treize as 'Your Excellency', but made it sound as informal as 'buddy' or 'pal', had also won Wufei's complete confidence, no mean feat at the best of times, simply by being himself and accepting Wufei for what _he_ was, not the spoiled and pampered consort of a wealthy and powerful man, which is what most others saw and treated him as, but merely as an ailing and frightened young man.

                "Yes doctor," He said once more, "And thank-you, thank-you for everything."

                Dr Scrivener waved away Treize's thanks and, summoning his nurses, left the room.  Once the door had closed Treize turned to face the bed.  Wufei lay outstretched on his back, his head resting comfortably against a low mound of pillows and his ashen face turned away from Treize.  The sheets were pulled up and folded neatly under his armpits and his arms resting at his sides, uncovered.  He wore the standard issue white hospital gown, the loose sleeves of which stopped just above his elbows, and Treize looked at the pale skin of his forearms as they lay against the white sheets.  His heart sank as he noticed that they were hardly different in colour, and he slowly crossed the room and took one of Wufei's frail hands in his.   He extended his free hand behind him, groping for the chair he knew to be there, and when he located it he drew it to him and sank down, perching on the edge of the seat so as to be as close as he could to Wufei.

                "Oh my poor, poor dragon."  He said as he pressed the hand to his cheek.  Suddenly Wufei's head rotated on the pillow until it faced him, the dressing-covered eyes seeming to fix him with a disconcertingly direct but empty glare.  Treize had thought Wufei asleep and in his surprise he dropped he hand he was holding.  It fell heavily, as if there were no life in the limb.

                "What happened Treize," Wufei rasped hoarsely, "Did something go wrong?  Am I blind?"  This last question had a quaver behind the hoarseness that Treize hastened to dispel.  He took Wufei's hand again and held it gently between both of his, raising it to his lips and kissing it lightly.  

                "No Sweet, you are not blind.  Everything went very well and you are going to be fine."  He kissed Wufei's hand again.  Treize felt the slender fingers tighten slightly around his own and Wufei attempted to sit up, using Treize's hand as a brace with which to haul himself upright.  He gave up the attempt, having no strength left in his body.

                "Here, let me help you."  Treize rose from the chair and sat beside Wufei on the bed, folding one leg beneath him as he had done before.  Placing his arms beneath Wufei's armpits he gently lifted his husband until he rested with his back against the headboard, hastily re-arranging the pillows at Wufei's back.  As soon as he was upright Wufei reached out for Treize and grabbed what ever part of him he could.  He pulled the older man closer to him and wrapped his arms about him, clinging to him almost in desperation, his face buried in Treize's chest.  

                "Now you mustn't cry Sweet," Treize chided gently as he heard a muffled sob, "I will have to send for the nurse to change your dressing if you get it all wet."  He disengaged Wufei's arms gently and settled himself against the headboard.  He then took Wufei in his arms, cradling the small body gently.  Wufei tucked his head beneath Treize's chin and wrapped his arms around his body once more, this time more gently and with less desperation.  Wufei's hair was caught up at the nape of his neck in a pony-tail and Treize smoothed back some errant tendrils that had worked themselves loose.  They sat in companionable silence for some little while before Wufei spoke again.

                "When can I go home?"  He asked.  Treize smiled to himself as he realised that he had correctly predicted Wufei's first two questions to him.

                "In a few days time my pet."  He replied.  "Dr Scrivener wants to keep you here for observation for a while, but he is confident that you will make a full recovery."  Wufei sighed heavily.

                "And I will be able to see?"  He asked once more.

                "Not very well at first," Treize replied, "But remember, Dr Scrivener did warn us about that."

                "Yes, I remember."  Wufei nodded.  "Did you stay with me during the operation?"  He asked.  Treize shuddered at the memory.

                "Yes, I did." He replied. "They allowed me to stay so long as I was scrubbed, gowned and masked but I was not allowed to get anywhere near the operating table, so I was not able to see anything."  'Thank-goodness' he mentally added.

                "I shouldn't imagine you were champing at the bit either."  Wufei said with a weak laugh.

                "You're darn tootin'," Trieze replied, mimicking Duo Maxwell's American drawl.  They both laughed, and then Treize grew serious again.  "I didn't leave you earlier, you know."  He said.  "Well not for very long anyway.  When they wheeled you out of the theatre and into the post-operative recovery room I went with you and stayed there for around an hour and a half.  You still hadn't woken up so they brought you back in here and I waited with you for around another hour.  I began to get a little worried so I rang for Dr Scrivener.  He told me that you would probably come round at any moment, and that I shouldn't worry."

                "That's what he always says."  Wufei interposed

                "It suddenly crossed my mind that the others must probably be wondering what had happened and how you were." Treize continued. "They knew that the operation was scheduled for 9.00 this morning and it was about 9.30 in the evening by then.  I was then torn between staying with you in case you came round, or finding a phone to let them know that you were okay and that everything went well.  I couldn't phone from the room, of course, because I couldn't use my cellphone.  I decided to find the phone, and as bad luck would have it, you came round while I was out of the room."

                "I'm sorry I blew up at you."  Wufei said, and it suddenly occurred to Treize that this was the first time that Wufei had ever apologised outright for one of his fits of temper. 

                "Don't worry about it my pet."  He said.  God, he had been around Dr Scrivener far too long.

                "You do know that I love you don't you?"  Wufei asked with such gravity that Treize was momentarily alarmed.

                "Of course I do."  He replied, "Why would you ask that?"

                "Because I _do_ love you, I love you very much," Wufei continued earnestly, ignoring the question.  "Although I don't tell you so very often.  I know that I'm quite horrid to you sometimes and I can be a bit of a brat, but I don't mean anything by it, really I don't.  I don't hate you or anything, even though I might say so.  You are so lovely to me Treize, all the time.  Even when I'm being horrid to you you are kind to me.  I just wanted you to know that I really do appreciate it, and I really do love you.  I would just hate to think that something might happen to me and I might never have the chance to tell you how wonderful I think you are and how dear you are to me.  I…, I just wanted you to know, just in case."  Treize tightened his arms around his husband, holding him closer to him.

                "I do know it, my Dragon," He said, "And nothing is going to happen to you, not while I still have breath in my body."  He added.

                Wufei fell asleep shortly after, and Treize remained with him, drifting in and out of a fitful but untroubled sleep.  When the nursing staff entered the room the next morning, so moved were they by the sight of the couple asleep in each other's arms that they discreetly withdrew and left them.  They were astute enough to realise that time spent in the arms of the man he loved would do Wufei more good than any medicine they could offer him.


	8. Entre Nous

**'Entre Nous' – An Interlude**

**By DRL**

                Quatre ran small, slender fingers through the cinnamon hair of the head that nestled comfortably against his chest and sighed contentedly.  The rather severe crop-style haircut that Trowa had had several weeks ago was beginning to grow out, much to Quatre's satisfaction.  The experiment with the _trés_ fashionable 'French Crop', as he had been reliably informed that his husband's new hair style was called, had been interesting, but Quatre preferred Trowa's hair longer and he made a mental note to mention this to Nicky at their next consultation.  Their over-zealous image consultant obviously loved his work and was apt to get a little carried away at times.  One of Nicky's ideas that Quatre had wholeheartedly approved of, however, was the all-over 'Brazilian' waxing that he had somehow coerced Trowa into enduring.  It brought tears to Quatre's eyes each time he thought of how painful the process must surely have been, but he just could not get enough of Trowa's lean, well-toned and now completely smooth and hairless body.  Quatre would never actually ask it of his husband, but this was one look that he hoped Trowa would maintain.  

                As his thoughts turned to Trowa's naked, hairless, unbelievably sexy body, Quatre felt a familiar stirring in his groin.  He glanced up at the clock.  It was almost 10.00pm.  The staff would have retired for the evening so all caution could be thrown to the winds.  Trowa and he were currently lounging in the 'family' room, ostensibly watching tv, but really just enjoying being with each other after a hard day at their respective offices.  Quatre lay outstretched on the huge sofa, his back against the sofa's arm.  Trowa lay between Quatre's parted legs, his back resting against his husband's torso.  While the fingers of his right hand continued to toy with Trowa's shorn locks, the fingers of Quatre's left hand, hitherto entwined loosely with his husband's, now disengaged themselves and began a quest.  They stole beneath the hem of Trowa's t-shirt and roamed lightly across his firm abdomen, pausing to probe his delicate bellybutton before proceeding.  The questing digits then deftly unbuckled Trowa's belt and nimbly unfastened the fly buttons on his jeans.  Delighted by the absence of any restricting underwear, the blond slid his tiny hand along the plane surface, ever lower, until his fingers finally furled around their prize, Trowa's glorious jewels.  He gently massaged his husband's groin, relishing the feel of the smooth, depilated skin beneath his fingers.  Trowa emitted a soft, low moan of pleasure and shifted slightly against Quatre's body, spreading his legs slightly to allow his love easier access, the friction thus caused doing no harm at all to Quatres own groin, and Quatre felt life stirring within his own member, even as Trowa's swelled beneath his ministering fingers.  Quatre was just about to take matters a step further when the shrill peal of the telephone rent the air and caused both Trowa and he to start violently.

                "Shit!"  Quatre exclaimed with annoyance.  "Who can that be at this time of night?" 

                "On of these days I am going to kill that man."  Trowa murmured, as he rose and refastened his fly buttons with uncharacteristic awkwardness born of frustration.  He snatched up the telephone receiver and hissed into the mouthpiece, "Duo Maxwell Yuy, I am going to kill you!" Before tossing it into Quatre's lap and leaving the room.

                "Hello"?  Quatre said anxiously, as he watched his chagrined lover leave.

                "Hey Q," Duo Maxwell Yuy's voice came across loud and clear, "What's up with Tro?"

                "Oh Duo, you have just the worst timing."  Quatre said, but not unkindly.

                "Why, what…?  Oh, you guys were having sex, right?"

                "Not quite, but we were well on the way."  Quatre replied with a resigned sigh.

                "Gee, I'm sorry Q.  I would offer to let you get back to him, but he's probably jerking off right now so…"

                "Duo stop it!  Must you twist the knife in the wound?  My poor Trowa," Quatre looked longingly at the door through which Trowa had just exited, "I really ought to go…"

                "Nah, leave him," Duo cut him off, "It'll build his character, and anyway, this is important."

                "So is Trowa!"  Quatre replied indignantly.

                "Sure he is, sure he is."  Duo hastily agreed.  Quatre was like a tigress protecting her cub when it came to Trowa, and Duo knew better than to go down that rocky and well-trodden road.  "Anyway, listen up.  The General just called to give the latest on Wufei."

                "How is he?"  Quatre asked with obvious concern.

                "Still asleep.  The General asked me to pass on the message and he said to apologise for his not calling personally.   He said that Wuffers came out of surgery about an hour ago.  He hasn't come round from the anaesthetic yet, but everything seemed to go okay, although they won't know for a few days yet.  He said that the docs expected Wuffers to come round any time now, and he wanted to be there when he woke up, which is why he didn't call you himself.  He only ran out quickly for a few minutes."

                "Oh I do hope that he's okay."  Quatre said in a worried voice.  "Do you think perhaps we ought to be there?"

                "The General said he would let us know when we can come visit."  Duo replied.  "He said that it would be best to speak to Wuffers first, you know, to see how he feels about visitors and all."

                "I guess he's right."  Quatre said.  "Wufei will probably be feeling a little apprehensive, and he might feel better if he didn't have too may people around.  Anyway, I thought Treize told you quite categorically not to call him The General?"

                "Yeah, he did.  That's why I'm doing it," Duo said with a laugh, "It gets him real mad."

                "But Duo, that's really mean, you know he doesn't like it."  Quatre said in a censorious tone.

                "But Quatre," Duo mimicked the blond's manner and voice, "There would be no point in doing it if he liked it.  Shit Q, you _so_ miss the point of teasing, don't you?"

                "No I don't," Quatre said in own defence, "I just don't like being mean.  Anyway, back to Wufei.  Treize will keep us posted with any developments, won't he?"

                "Yeah, he said he would."

                "Good.  And how are you Duo, are you well?"

                "Just peachy.  Heero and I spent almost all day in bed today, just lounging, talking, making the beast with two backs, you know, the usual 'all day in bed' stuff.  We got up around six, went out for dinner around seven and we just got back."

                "Well, it's nice to know that at least someone is getting some."  Quatre said dryly.

                "Ah quit complaining Q," Duo replied remorselessly, "Just think, when you and Tro finally do get down to it, it'll be all the sweeter for the delay.  You'll probably even thank me."

                "I doubt it."  Quatre said.  "Anyway, so you're enjoying having Heero with you all the time?"

                "Sure.  It's not hearts and flowers all the time, but I wouldn't change things for the world.  I mean, he yelled at me big time yesterday."

                "Why?"

                "Nothing much.  We have a perfectly good laundry room in the apartment, but we always send everything out to be cleaned, right down to socks and underwear.  I just thought that I might try doing it myself, so I put all the clothes in the washer, put the detergent in and turned it on.  I even put in softener and shit to make everything all fluffy.   Only, when it was finished all the white stuff came out kinda greyish."

                "Oh Duo, didn't you sort them?"  Quatre asked.

                "Well you see, that was just what Heero asked."  Duo replied.  "Anyway, he hauled off and yelled at me, saying that I couldn't even do a load of laundry without messing it up."

                "And what did you say?"

                "I told him that if he didn't have his big fat head stuck so far up his ass, he would see that I did actually sort them, it was just one black sock that snuck its way in amongst the whites that did the damage.   Then I stormed out of the house and went to my studio for the rest of the day."

                "Duo you are a tonic, you really are."  Quatre said with a light laugh.  "What happened when you got home?"  He asked.

                "He apologised, we made up and had wild, passionate sex well into the night of course."  Duo replied.

                "Tell me Duo, is there anything that you and Heero do that doesn't culminate in wild, passionate sex?"  Quatre asked.  Duo gave the question serious thought for a moment before replying.

                "Ummm…, no, don't think so."  He said finally.

                "I thought so, I was just checking.  Anyway, what are you working on at the studio, anything good?"  Quatre asked.

"Er…, well…, yeah, that is to say, no, not really." Duo stammered.  He was momentarily caught off balance by Quatre's question because what he was actually working on was a commission from Trowa.  Quatre's 30th birthday was fast approaching, and by way of a gift,, Trowa had commissioned Duo to paint a portrait of Trowa himself, to be hung in Quatre's office at the W.E.I. building.  He had more than once observed Quatre point at the bare wall facing his desk and state that he was saving the space for a portrait of his beloved.  It had proved a slow process, because sittings could only be managed when Trowa could fit them into his busy schedule, but the work was now almost completed and Trowa was delighted with it.  "So, have you decided what to do for your birthday?"  Duo said quickly, changing the subject, but not doing so at the same time.

"I still can't decide."  Quatre replied with a sigh, suspecting nothing.  "I would like to celebrate it quietly, just Trowa and I, but I would like to celebrate it with all of you guys also.  My family probably have a big party planned, so I don't intend to plan another…  Oh just what I needed, thank-you my love."   Duo heard the distinct sound of a kiss being bestowed, and then muted words of love.   He smiled indulgently to himself.  Ah… Quatre and Trowa, two turtle-doves if ever he saw them.  Quatres voice suddenly came crisp and clear once again.  "Sorry Duo.  Trowa just brought me a pot of tea.  He is so thoughtful…"  Quatre tailed off wistfully.

"So he's finished jerking off then?"  Duo asked.

"Duo!"  Quatre said sharply.  "Anyway, he wouldn't have needed to if it hadn't been for you."

"Okay, okay, I said I was sorry.  Geez, what do you want from me?"

"Hey Duo," Quatre's voice dropped conspiratorially, "Have you spoken to Heero about the waxing yet?"

"No, I haven't found the right moment to broach the subject yet, , but I'm willing to go for it.  Figured I'd go get it done first, then give him a surprise.  It looks good you say?"

"You have no idea."  Quatre replied emphatically.  "I was in a really boring meeting today, and I got to thinking about Trowa lying naked on the boardroom table, all smooth and tanned like he is…, well, all I can say is that I was very glad that it was not a glass-topped table."  

"So now I know how you get through all of those meetings."  Duo laughed.  "Heero doesn't have that problem any more, but I'll still give him the tip.  I'm definitely gonna go for it though.  It hurts you say?"

"Yes, I should imagine so."  Quatre replied.  "Trowa never really tells me when I ask him, but his eyes always take on this haunted look whenever I mention it."

"Yeah well, I'll just take a piece of leather to bite on, I'll be okay.  Maybe I can persuade Heero to come with me and we can do it together."  Duo mused.

"Absolutely not!"  Quatre stated.  "If I know the pair of you, you would end up doing _something_ together, but it sure as hell would _not_ be the waxing."

"Spoilsport."  Duo said glumly.  "Anyway, get your guy to set it up, I'm game as hell."

"Okay.  Anyway Duo, it's been lovely talking to you, but I really must get back to Trowa now.  Give Heero my love won't you, and give the same to Treize if you speak to him again.  If you do tell him to tell Wufei that we all love him and we are thinking about him.  I will have Nicky call you about the waxing.  Speak to you soon, love you, goodnight."

"Goodnight Q."  Duo said and broke the connection.

Quatre drained his teacup, rose and left the room.  He quickly ascended the widely sweeping staircase to the sumptuous bedroom suite he shared with his patiently waiting husband, determined to pick up just where they had left off.

                "Hmm, must remember to take the phone off the hook." He murmured to himself as the vision of Trowa on the boardroom table swam back into his ken.


	9. Purple Hades

Purple Hades

By DRL

                For the millionth time tonight I wonder what the time might be.  The minutes tick by and still sleep eludes me.  It could be broad daylight outside for all I know.  All I see is darkness.  I wonder how long I have lain here in this alien room, in this comfortless bed.  I regret having sent Treize away.  I regret it more that words could possibly say, nevertheless I would do the same again.  I haul myself to an upright position, settling myself against the headboard.  If Treize were here he would immediately have sprung to my aid, arranging the pillows behind my back until I was comfortable.  I struggle with them for a while, then I give up.  What is one more discomfort on this dreadful night?

I say 'sent him away', but he is only a matter of yards away from me.  A matter of yards which might as well be a hundred miles for all the good his proximity does me.  One of the facilities of this exclusive private clinic, one that Treize is probably paying an arm and a leg for, is that some of the rooms are equipped with an additional adjoining bedroom suite for the use of family members who might wish to remain with a patient overnight, such as parents with a child, for example.  He is asleep in the small bedchamber which adjoins this one.  

Treize has been here with me ever since I was admitted four days ago.  The first night I didn't sleep much because I was worried and apprehensive about the operation, and he didn't sleep because I couldn't.  The second night was the night after the operation and he spent it here on the bed beside me, holding me.  The third night he did the same.  I'm not sure how much sleep he actually managed to get those two nights after the operation and naturally he said nothing, but I noticed how stiff and sore he was the following mornings.  I couldn't see him of course, but its true what they say about a blind person's other senses becoming heightened to compensate for their lack of sight.  I could just 'sense' it, in the way he spoke, in the way he moved, I could just 'tell'.  So tonight I insisted that he sleep in the bedroom next door.  He refused at first, and argued with me at length, but I was steadfast.  He had had three nights of discomfort on my account, and that was quite enough for anyone.  I adopted a feigned attitude of bravura, and assured him that I would be alright on my own.  After having elicited a promise from me that I would call out to him if I felt anxious or if I needed him for anything, he finally acquiesced.  After he left I was fine for a few minutes, because he left the communicating door between the rooms open and kept up a light banter.  I am certain he did this because he wanted me to feel his presence for as long as possible.  He could not keep it up indefinitely of course, and he eventually fell asleep.  That was the beginning of the longest night of my life.

The moment his voice fell silent the panic gripped me.  I had known that it would because I had experienced it before.  As I mentioned previously, Trieze has been with me since I was admitted, and that was four days ago.  He has had to leave the room for various reasons, albeit only briefly, but whenever he leaves I suddenly become gripped by an irrational but overwhelming sense of anxiety and fear.  I cannot tell you what exactly it is that I am afraid of and the moment he steps back into the room the feeling simply melts away and I am alright again, but for the duration of his absence the feeling is very real and most unpleasant.  I have been in the grip of this panic attack for, oh I don't know how many hours now,   and as the night wears on my thoughts get darker and darker.  I imagine how it would be to be in constant darkness like this forever.  I imagine how it would be to have this dressing removed, only to discover that Dr Scrivener had been wrong, the operation had been unsuccessful and I had been permanently blinded for evermore.  I imagine life without my sight, without ever seeing Treize again.  This is when the panic overwhelms me, and I open my mouth call out to him, but I stop myself at the last minute.  He always, without exception, puts my needs above his own and would quite happily sleep out here, perched on the edge of my bed, for weeks on end if he felt I needed him to, or even just _wanted_ him to, regardless of need.  I vouchsafed him one decent night's sleep and I am damned if I am going to interrupt it for the sake of my own ridiculous insecurities.

'Think pleasant thoughts, think pleasant thoughts' I tell myself, and immediately the smiling, heart-shaped face of Duo Maxwell-Yuy swims into my ken.  Ah yes, that is a very pleasant thought indeed.  Duo and the rest of the guys came to visit me today and the thought of the merry time we had, with Duo making us all laugh so much that I wept, brings an immediate smile to my face.   It was a wonderful day.  The guys came just after lunch and stayed until they were asked politely to leave by the medical staff, a good while after the official end of the visiting period.  Duo regaled us all with humorous tales of various things that had befallen him during his life.  I don't know where he gets these stories from, because they can't possibly all have happened to him.    I know the story of his life pretty well, and most of it would definitely not make humorous telling.  I think he probably makes them up, but anyway, they are very funny and kept us all amused for hours. 

  I suspect that there was something of an east wind blowing between Duo and Heero today, which is hardly a rare occurrence.  Once again, it was something I sensed rather that saw.  Duo was as talkative and garrulous as ever and Heero was his usual taciturn self.  They both contributed to the general hubbub of conversation, but I noticed that they never actually spoke directly to each other.  This did not necessarily mean anything in and of itself and there was nothing tangible that I could put my finger on, but there _was_ something.  I asked Treize about it after they'd left and he confirmed my suspicions.  He said that Quatre had drawn him aside and warned him that Heero and Duo had had something of a contretemps just before he and Trowa had picked them up to drive them to the hospital, hence the coolness between them that I had picked up on.  Treize was quite impressed that I had noticed because they were all trying desperately to keep it from me, not wanting me to be upset.  This is possibly why Heero and Duo did not speak to each other, because I doubt whether they could have kept their animosity in check, if previous experience in this area is anything to go by.  Anyway, they all thought that they had succeeded in being very clever and discreet.  Treize assured me that it was nothing serious however, and added that if he knew the two of them they were probably having wild, passionate make-up sex right at that very moment.  I laughed then and told him that now that he mentioned it, I wouldn't mind a bit of wild, passionate sex myself.  Treize and I had not had sex for almost a whole week!  For a couple of days prior to my coming here, sex was the last thing on my mind, and I have been in here for the past four days, the problem now being one, not of inclination but of opportunity.  He was seated on the bed beside me at the time, an arm about my shoulders.  With a finger under my chin, he gently lifted my face to his and pressed his lips to mine in a tender kiss.

"We'll be home soon, my Dragon."  He said simply, and his voice had gone all husky the way it does when… well, I felt for his face, brought it down to mine and kissed him with every ounce of the passion and desire I felt for him.  As pleasant as it was though, this was definitely going to get us nowhere so with reluctance I broke the kiss and settled for snuggling up against his broad chest as he enfolded me within the warm embrace of his strong arms.  I have to say that I felt a certain exhilaration just then, kissing him but not being able to see him.  It was like being blindfolded and handcuffed (but without the handcuffs) and it gave me a sense of absolute and wanton abandon.  I began to think that this situation could have hidden benefits.  I told Treize this and he chuckled in that deep, throaty way of his that I so adore, saying, "At last, the silver lining".  Shortly after that, he went to bed next door and I would prefer not to dwell upon what happened after that.  I _am_ supposed to be thinking pleasant thoughts, after all.

Quatre Barton-Winner, now there's another pleasant thought.  Thoughts of snuggling with Treize brought Quatre to my mind, since I had spent most of the day snuggling with him.  Quatre is a very tactile person.  If one sits back and observes Trowa and he as they interact with each other, one cannot help but be struck by the fact that they are almost constantly in physical contact with each other.  It is quite amazing, almost as though they draw some sort of life-force from each other.  Now Trowa is only like this with Quatre.  He can by no means be called a touchy-feely person – quite the opposite, in fact.  Quatre, on the other hand, can definitely be so called.  He is a very physically emotional person, and is utterly adorable because of it.  The one problem with this though, is that his delicate feelings are very easily bruised and one needs to handle him with kid gloves somewhat.  Heero, being very blunt and outspoken as he is and not one to spare anybody's feelings, has sailed fairly close to the wind on several occasions.  I have often wondered how Trowa copes, spending so much time with him as he does, but then again, Trowa would cut off his own right arm before he would even so much as dream of uttering a cross word to his darling Quatre.

When the guys arrived at the hospital Treize went down to meet them and convey them to my room (occasioning me several minutes of abject terror, but never mind about that – 'pleasant thoughts Wufei, pleasant thoughts').  The first I knew that they had arrived was when Quatre rushed in to the room with a squeal of delight and promptly attempted to smother me.

"Oh Wufei, Wufei, we are so pleased to see you.  We've all been so worried about you.  Treize said that you were alright but I refused to believe it until I saw you for myself."  He then loosened his grip, possibly because he had observed the bluish hue that had begun to suffuse my cheeks.  "Let me look at you."  He said, and at this point I was glad I could not see the look on his face when he saw the bindings which covered my eyes.  "Oh your poor, poor eyes,"  He said with dismay, and proceeded to smother me once more, a little more gingerly this time, obviously fearing that he might exacerbate the damage.  I have to say that this thought had occurred to me also.  At this point Trowa came to my rescue and gently prised Quatre off my rapidly asphyxiating body.  Both Heero and Trowa confined their greeting to a handshake but Duo, only marginally less effusive than Quatre, took up where the blond bombshell had left off.  Duo is also quite a tactile person, but he is a little more emotionally resilient than Quatre (but only a little more, which is something that a lot of people do not realise).

They settled themselves in the seating that Treize had arranged to be provided.  Quatre, however, had usurped Treize's usual seat and had settled himself on the bed beside me, his legs tucked beneath him.  He enfolded me in his arms and I quite happily laid my head upon his chest and placed my arms loosely around his waist.  We sat thus for several hours, talking and laughing together.  Quatre played with my hair, stroking it and combing his fingers through it in a desultory fashion.  He has always liked my hair, why, I could not say.  It's just plain old hair after all, not like Duo's glorious mane.  Most of the time I just sat there, listening to their voices and relishing Quatre's caresses, and I was as contented as a man could ever be.  I couldn't see Treize, but I was sure he was looking on with an indulgent smile, happy that I was happy, perhaps for the first time in several weeks.  I may even have fallen asleep for a little while, but if I did they were all way too polite to mention it.  At one point Duo came and sat on the other side of the bed.  He took one of my hands and held it comfortingly between his.

"Hang in there buddy," He said gently, "I've been praying for you and you are going to be fine."  He then raised my hand to his lips, pressed a light kiss to my fingers and then held it against his smooth cheek.  It was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears, but as Treize keeps on reminding me, if I did that then my dressing would get all wet and uncomfortable.  I gently extricated myself from Quatre's embrace and gave Duo a big, big hug (if you can't beat 'em, join 'em eh?)

I miss them all so much when Treize and I are back home in France.  Besides restoring my rapidly failing vision, the one good thing that has come out of my agreeing to the surgery is that I get to spend a good long time here with the guys.  Heero and Duo live a mere 40 or so minutes drive away from Quatre and Trowa and so they see each other fairly regularly.  Treize and I live so far away and what with one thing and another, sometimes we don't get together for 6 or 7 months at a time.  Sometimes, when the period between our meetings begins to yawn a little, Treize packs me up in our private jet and ships me off to stay with one or other of the couples for a while.  I'm convinced that he does this whenever he gets fed up of seeing my long face moping about the chateau, but he swears not.

Treize…, now there's the most pleasant thought of all.  If I were to try to set down in words exactly what Treize means to me, I simply could not do it.  Now I mean nothing slushy or sentimental by this, it is a simple statement of fact.  He is everything to me, and I mean nothing slushy or sentimental by that either.  Everything I have and everything I am is due to him.  He is my husband, my friend, my confidante, my lover, my mother, my father, my banker, my keeper, my protector, my provider, my… everything.  I am completely dependent on him for everything and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A lot of people were quite surprised that after being a Gundam pilot and everything that went with that, I ended up being a 'kept' man (and kept by that particular man!), not the least of these people being my fellow Gundam pilots.  I must confess to being a little surprised at the way things turned out myself.  When I married Treize I had no real idea what I was doing.  I did not fare all that well after the war and  I went to the Shaolin Temple for a while because I didn't know what else to do.  I went there to meditate, cogitate and decide what to do with the rest of my life, but all I succeeded in deciding was that the life of a Shaolin monk was not for me.  After about six months, and to my utter astonishment, Treize came and found me.  I had not thought to ever see him again.  I hoped and dreamed of course, but under the circumstances, our lives and backgrounds being so diverse, I never thought I would.  After all, the war, which is what had thrown two such unlikely people as us together in the first place, was over and there was no earthly reason why our paths should ever cross again.  Anyway,  he found me and took me away from the temple.  This was just as well because to be quite honest, by that time I think I was heading for some kind of breakdown.  I had thought to go to the temple to battle my demons, but in the end they got the better of me.  

I have only a vague recollection of the period that followed and that's fine with me.  It represented one of the lowest points of my life, and that was up against some pretty stiff competition, what with the war and everything.  I don't remember any real details about our marriage and how it came about.  It just kind of 'happened'.  I distinctly remember Treize saying to me "Marry me and I'll take care of you", which I suppose can be taken as a proposal.  I can't say I remember saying 'yes' or anything, but I do remember a clandestine ceremony in a small room somewhere with me, Treize, an official of some kind who performed the ceremony and two total strangers – I can only assume that they were present as witnesses.  I was not thinking quite straight at the time and if he had asked me to jump off a cliff I expect I would have complied.  I suppose that if one was to examine the thing one might argue that he took advantage of my weakened mental state, and I suppose that strictly speaking, this is quite true.  I don't know what I would have answered had I been in full possession of my faculties, but I have never had one day's regret, so I don't suppose it matters overmuch.

Treize was as good as his word – he certainly did look after me.  He took me to a doctor, who diagnosed some sort of depression and various other things, then arranged for me to spend some time in what he politely described as a 'rest home' but was really a sanatorium.  This is a part of my life that I am not proud of and I have never told the others.  Mental illness is still seen as a stigma by so many people and I would not like the guys to think that I was not right in the head. 

 After a few month's 'rest' Treize took me home.  'Home' turned out to be a 20 room chateau in the Dordogne region of South West France, set within 400 acres of parkland!   Imagine my further surprise when I discovered that this little _'pied á terre'_ was just one of many properties that Treize owned.  Well I spent the next six or so months discovering just what I had gotten hold of.  I always knew that Treize was from an aristocratic background, but I never really thought much about what that meant.  After all, we spent most of our previous acquaintanceship alternately fighting against each other or having sex with each other.  We never really touched on such matters.  I soon found out what it meant though.  It meant that he was an extremely wealthy man and by association, so was I.  It meant endless rounds of parties, receptions, soirees and dinners, it meant dressing up in fancy, formal outfits an awful lot of the time, it meant my constantly being expected to conduct myself in a manner befitting the consort of His Excellency Treize Kushrenada, it meant being able to have anything I wanted and never having to do anything I didn't want to, and most importantly for me, it meant comfort and security, things I had had little of for some time.  It took a while for it all to sink in, but when it finally did, I took to my new role like a duck to water and I have never looked back from that day to this.

  Treize pampers, spoils and indulges me shamelessly, and I let him.  He needs it, you see.  He needs to have someone to take care of, to love, to cherish and to care for.  His is a very nurturing nature, and I provide an outlet for that.  I think that he would make a very good father, but he has no such aspirations, so that book is firmly closed.  It is not always an easy ride for him since I admit to being a tad volatile at times, but I think he enjoys this aspect of things also.  And I don't have it all my own way.  He is quite capable of showing the iron hand beneath the velvet glove when he's good and ready, although this happens extremely infrequently.

We kept our marriage a secret while I recovered my wits and my health.  I soon began to feel anxious about the others however.  I felt terrible keeping them in the dark about the strange turn my life had taken.  As far as they knew I was still at the Shaolin Temple.  Treize was understandably reluctant to break the news, because he did not know how he would be received by the other pilots, but he also had certain social obligations, which he had rather neglected since our marriage, but this situation could not endure.  I had to be presented socially as his consort, but this could not be done without the resulting furore tipping off the others.  I did not want them to find out by reading it in the society gossip columns, they deserved much better than that, but I too was a little apprehensive about their reaction to the news.  After agonising over it for weeks, in the end I simply invited them to the chateau and told them straight out.  I needn't have worried so much about it however; I should have had more faith in them.  After their initial surprise, they welcomed Treize to the bosom of our little family, and that was that.  They simply accepted the situation at face value and never asked any awkward questions, whatever they really thought about the whole thing.  Let's face it, none of the guys are fools, and I could see by some of their faces that they were not wholly convinced by the expurgated version of events that I had given them, but they allowed me to keep my secrets to  myself, and for this I will be eternally grateful to them all.

Treize and I have been married for around 14 years now, although it is generally accepted to be a bit less than that.  By the time the official announcement was made we had been married almost a year, but we kept this to ourselves for obvious reasons.  We never celebrate our wedding anniversary in any way, since the rather dubious circumstances were hardly a cause for celebration.  As I said, I don't really know any of the details – I couldn't even tell you our marriage date.  I know that I was just 16 yeas old when we married (goodness, so young!) and I am almost 30 now, so my calculations make it around 14 years.  Treize never mentions it and becomes very non-committal and vague whenever other people do.  I don't think that he is embarrassed or ashamed of anything – that is not Treize's style – I think that he is trying to spare my feelings rather than anything else.  I must admit to having been singularly incurious myself hitherto.  But things are different now.  I suddenly feel the need to know.  My recent experiences have made me view life a little differently; one could almost say that I have come down from my ivory tower.

Thank-goodness, I can hear him stirring next door.  He is awake, and I can hear the faint 'twang' of the bedsprings as he rises (those heightened senses again).  'Be calm, don't give yourself away' I tell myself, but I realise that it is futile.  The utter relief I feel as I hear his light footsteps approaching my bed immediately overwhelms me and I know that it cannot be suppressed.  

"Treize?"  An involuntary cry escapes me, and even to my ears it sounds plaintive and pathetic.  

"Fei, what's the matter, why are you awake?"  He says and never has that voice sounded so sweet.  I feel the mattress sink as he sits beside me and enfolds me in his arms.  I had not meant to tell him about my ordeal this night, but as his strong arms close about me, I cling to him like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood and the whole story comes flooding out.  Amid uncontrollable torrents of weeping that make my words incoherent and unintelligible, I tell him of my irrational panic attacks, I tell him how I have lived in dread of hearing those casually uttered words "Fei, I'm just stepping out for a few minutes", I tell him how I have lain awake this night, striving to control the anxiety and panic and I finally put into words a thought that I had been thrusting to the back of my tortured mind for some time now, the reason for my growing sense of dread.  I tell him how I fear a recurrence of the malaise that marred the beginning of our marriage so long ago.  I tell him that I am afraid I am losing my mind.  


	10. Bagatelle Park

Bagatelle Park

By DRL

        Duo Maxwell-Yuy stood in the centre of the 'wall of glass' window that comprised the entire south wall of his and Heero's duplex apartment and gazed out at the breathtaking panoramic view of the city that he was afforded from this particular vantage point, fifteen storeys high.  He loved the apartment and he simply adored the view.  Heero had paid through the nose for it, granted, but Duo would have considered it cheap at twice the price.

                During their hunt for an apartment five years ago, the riverside apartment building in which he and Heero now resided was newly completed, trendily stylish and fashionably exclusive.  It was also way beyond their budget.  Even so, Duo made enquires and found out that though most of the units had already been reserved, the penthouse, the most highly prized (and highly priced) unit in the building, was still available.  It boasted its own private elevator, a spacious roof terrace and the 'wall of glass' window, which ran the entire length of the apartment and offered unparalleled views along the river and out across the city.  

Duo had persuaded Heero to make an appointment to view the apartment 'just for a laugh', but once inside he was thoroughly smitten.  He and Heero were by no means paupers.  Heero ran his own computer software business and he himself had enjoyed some success as a conceptual artist, but Heero, having assessed their joint means, had set the budget for their new apartment and it did not extend to a riverside penthouse in the most fashionable district in town.  Duo tried to dissemble, but Heero could see how enraptured he was with the apartment and with the view in particular.  He turned to the real estate agent and said, "We'll take it.  Reserve it in the name of H & D Maxwell-Yuy.  You'll get a cheque for the deposit by 11.00 tomorrow morning."  He then turned on his heel and strode out of the apartment, informing Duo that he had some business to attend to and instructing him to take a taxi home when he had seen all he needed to.  Duo never did find out exactly how or where Heero got the extra money for the apartment, or for the services of the interior designer who, with Duo's creative input, had decorated and furnished it in it's current chic, contemporary style and so implicitly did he trust his husband (and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth), he had made no more than cursory enquiries.  He did notice, however, that Heero, a diligent worker at the best of times, had begun to work doubly hard to expand and develop his computer business, so he had a pretty shrewd idea of how it was they managed to afford the apartment, and he loved Heero all the more for it.

"Heero?"  He said, and tore his gaze away from the magnificent vista to focus it on his husband, who sat reclined on an enormous red leather sofa, staring intently at a large television screen, on which the day's happenings from around the world were being broadcast on the CNN news channel.

"Hmm?"  Heero murmured absently in reply, but he nonetheless reached out and caught up a remote control unit from the seat beside him.  The wafer thin t.v. screen, which appeared to be floating in mid air in front of Heero, was actually suspended from the double-height ceiling of the apartment by an ingenious system of pulleys and cables.  As Heero aimed the control unit at the screen and pressed one of the myriad of tiny buttons, the suspension cables slowly elevated the screen, raising it out of Heero's sight and bringing it to rest way above his head, somewhere amongst the lighting fixtures in the ceiling.

Duo walked across to the sofa and sank down beside Heero, his bare feet tucked beneath him.  He stared off into the middle-distance, chewing his lower lip pensively.  Heero looked at him in silence, a concerned frown creasing his brow.  Duo and he had been out to the Barton-Winner mansion earlier that day to have lunch with Quatre and Trowa.  After lunch Heero and Trowa had repaired to the vast garage to tinker with the engine of an old classic car that Trowa was attempting to restore.  This was the emerald-eyed ex-pilot's premier avocation these days, and the garage had become something of a workshop.  Heero never passed up an opportunity to lend a hand.  Neither Quatre nor Duo had any interest in old cars  and had been left to amuse themselves as they saw fit, which they had appeared to do quite happily, but Heero had noticed that once they had left the mansion, Duo became silent and broody.  

Duo's morose mood had persisted all afternoon and despite several attempts, Heero had not been able to interest the braided American in any of his usual diversions.  This type of behaviour was so out of character for Duo that Heero had begun to worry about his usually over-exuberant husband.  He had decided to give Duo time to work whatever was bothering him out for himself, so he had refrained from raising the subject, but as he looked at Duo's face, the ever-present smile stricken from his lips and the light in those expressive violet eyes extinguished, he decided that enough was enough.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Duo just beat him to the punch.

"Heero?"  He said for the second time and looked at him unhappily.

"Duo…"  Heero began, but once again Duo headed him off.  He instantly schooled his features into a mask of feigned affability and said brightly,

"What do you want to do for dinner?"

"Duo…"  Heero tried again.

"We've still got some of that steak you liked in the fridge and I could make a salad."  Duo continued quickly.

"Duo…"

"I know, let's go to 'Carluccio's, we haven't been there in a while."

"Duo, what's wrong?"

Duo's mask dissolved and his unhappy expression returned.  He lowered his eyes and as Heero watched the long, dark lashes flutter against the creamy skin of Duo's cheeks, an overwhelming feeling of love welled up in his breast, and he vowed to put the smile back on the face of his chestnut-haired beauty.  Duo raised his eyes to Heero's and looked earnestly at him.

"Are we happy Heero?"  He asked, "I mean, are you happy with me?"

Heero looked at Duo in a stunned silence for a second or two before it dawned on him that any delay in responding to such a question may give Duo the wrong impression.

"Of course I'm happy with you Duo," He said quickly, but not too quickly since this was liable to give the wrong impression also.  He had obviously pitched it just right because a look of relief crossed Duo's features.  He moved closer to Heero and snuggled against his side.  Heero placed an arm around his shoulders and drew him closer still.  Duo sighed happily and Heero felt the tension leave his body.  He was content to leave well enough alone and not question Duo further, but he suddenly felt him stiffen once more.

"Do you think…, do you think we should go for counselling?"  Duo asked hesitantly.

"What?"  Heero was thoroughly perplexed now.  Counselling?  What on earth was Duo talking about?

"Do you think we should?"  Duo asked again, "Go for counselling I mean."

"Why should we go for counselling?"  Heero retorted, "Counselling for what?  What exactly are you talking about?"  Heero tried not to sound peeved but he could not help it.  Duo's though processes were a complete enigma to him at times.

"Marriage counselling," Duo said with exasperation, "Do you think we should go for marriage counselling?"

Heero looked at Duo through eyes narrowed to mere slits by suspicion.  If Quatre Barton-Winner had been filling Duo's head with nonsense again…  "Why do you ask that?"  He said, more sharply than he meant to.

"Don't get angry Heero, just listen."  Duo said, laying a quelling hand on his husband's arm.  "While you and Trowa were messing around in the garage, me and Q were watching t.v., okay?  Well there was this show on with these couples who kept fighting with each other, and there was this marriage counsellor who basically told them that their marriages were in real trouble and that they should get professional help.  Q made a joke, saying that it sounded like me and you and that maybe we should seek professional help too."  Heero snorted derisively at this and Duo, his hand still on Heero's arm, squeezed gently.  "No babe, listen.  He didn't really mean anything and we both laughed, then we started talking about something else and I kinda forgot about it.  Then we found this old women's magazine that one of Q's sisters left behind or something.  We were looking at all the pictures of girly stuff and shit, and having a good laugh when we came across this quiz.  You had to answer all these questions and it was supposed to tell you if you had the right man or not, so for a laugh we both took it, you know, we took the quiz.  Needless to say, Q's came out that he definitely had the right man, his man was madly in love with him and they would both live happily ever after.  No surprise there, right?"

"And yours, what did it say?"  Heero asked, with an uncharacteristic note of apprehension.  

Duo swallowed hard and lowered his eyes.  When he raised them Heero was alarmed to see the stricken expression in them.  

"I'm not going to tell you exactly what it said because you'll only get mad and besides, I don't remember exactly, but the bottom line was that we are totally incompatible, our relationship is heading for the skids and we should get some counselling before its too late, which it may already be."  Duo lowered his eyes again.  "You know what else it said?"

"What?"  Heero replied curtly.

"It said that it was a surprise that we hadn't killed each other yet, but that if we stayed together there was always time."

The look on Duo's face as he said this broke Heero's heart.  He wrapped his arms around his husband and enveloped him in a huge bear-hug.  Duo hugged him back and they sat in a tight embrace for some moments, before Heero loosened his hold and lifted Duo's chin until their eyes met.

"You mustn't pay any attention to what that magazine said," He said gently, as he fondly swept a stray lock of hair out of Duo's eyes and tucked it neatly behind his ear, "It's all a load of rubbish."

"Yeah, but what if it's true Heero?"  Duo said plaintively, "And what about the tv show?  We fight all the time, just like the couples on the show did."

Heero had to admit that Duo had a point there.  He still did not think that there was anything in this, but Duo could be hard to convince sometimes.  There was only one thing that would allay his fears (or confirm them he conceded reluctantly), and Heero decided to bite the bullet.

"Let's do it then," He said decisively, "Let's go see a counsellor.  But understand this," He added as Duo's face began to light up, "I am only agreeing to this because it seems to be what you want.  I do not think that there is anything wrong with our marriage."

"Nor do I Heero, but there's no harm in making sure, right?"

"Right."  Heero grudgingly agreed.  "You make the arrangements and I will turn up.  Now, about dinner…"

_TRANSCRIPT OF SESSION WITH COUPLE 'X' - WITH PENNY PAGE, PYS.D_

_PP = COUNSELLOR_

_DM = SUBJECT 1 (m)_

_HY = SUBJECT 2 (m)_

_PP.         So you say that you have never been in counselling before?_

_HY.       No_

_DM.      No, never_

_PP.         Are you nervous?_

_HY.       No_

_DM.      Just a little_

_PP.         There's no need to be nervous, just relax.  We are just going to have an informal little chat.  Now, what seems to be the problem?_

_HY.       There is no problem._

_DM.      H****!  Well, we kinda argue a lot about stuff and I thought that, well, maybe marriage counselling might help._

_PP.         You thought?  What about you H****?_

_HY.       What about me?_

_PP.         Do you think that there is a problem with you relationship?_

_HY.       No_

_PP.         Then why are you here?_

_HY.       Because D** asked me to come_

_PP.         So you didn't want to come?_

_HY.       Well it wasn't my idea, no, but D** wanted me to come, so I came._

_PP.         Do you always do what he asks you to?_

_HY.       Not always, no._

_DM.      He does a lot of the time though._

_PP.         And D**, do you do what he asks you to?_

_DM.      Mostly, but sometimes no._

_PP.         So what exactly is it that you argue about?_

_DM.      Well, everything and nothing really._

_PP.         Describe to me the circumstances of a recent argument._

_DM.      Well a couple weeks ago one of our friends was in the hospital, and we were going to visit him.  Two of our other friends were coming to pick us up, we were going to go to lunch then drive on down to the hospital.  Well we were expecting them to arrive at 12.00, and Q***** and T**** are never late. [1]_

_HY.       Unlike us, thanks to you and your stupid hair._

_DM.      You didn't seem to think it so stupid last night when you were using it to…_

_HY.       Shut up D**!_

_DM.      Anyway, we were expecting them at 12.00 and H**** decides to go work out at the gym at 11.15 for Christ's sake._

_HY.       I was only going to stay for half an hour, I told you._

_DM.      Yeah, but why go then?  Why not wait until we came back, or better still go the next day?  What would be the point in only going for half an hour?  And besides, you would be all sweaty when you got back and have to have a shower, and how long would that take?_

_HY.       And you're a fine one to talk.  While I'm gone you decide to wash your stupid hair._

_DM.      Well I thought I might as well, seeing as I had nothing else to do but sit and wait while you worked out._

_HY.       Yes, but how long did that take?_

_DM.      Well…_

_HY.       Yes, 'well'.  Why did you do it D**?  You know that you can never wash your hair in anything less that an hour, so why?  I wouldn't mind, but it was you who was kicking up a fuss about me going to the gym because we might be late.  Then you deliberately make us late by washing your stupid hair._

_DM.      Well I got bored waiting for you so I thought I would do something to pass the time._

_HY.       Pass the time!  How much time were you thinking of passing exactly, considering you only had 45 minutes and you hair takes upwards of a whole hour?_

_PP.         What happened when your friends arrived?_

_HY.       I was ready and he was still messing around with his stupid hair._

_DM.      We ended up fighting about it and we didn't speak to each other all day._

_PP.         Did your friends hear your argument?_

_DM.      Sure, but it was no biggie.  They hear us fighting all the time._

_PP.         So this sort of thing happens all the time?_

_DM.      Yeah, all the time._

_PP.         I see.  How long have the two of you been together?_

_DM.      Fifteen years, and we've been married for ten of those._

_PP.         You must have been very young when you met._

_DM.      Yeah._

_PP.         Was you relationship this tempestuous before your marriage._

_(Both subjects consider the question  for a long while before a reply is given)_

_DM.      No, not for the first couple years._

_PP.         H****, would you agree?_

_HY.       Yes_

_PP.         So, why do you think that was?_

_(Subjects hesitate once again before replying.  Subject 1 seems extremely agitated by the question)_

_DM.      I dunno, things were… different then._

_PP.         Different how?_

_DM.      We were…, I don't really want to talk about this._

_PP.         Perhaps it would help if you did._

_HY.       He said he doesn't want to talk about it._

_(Subject 2 reaches out and takes subject 1 by the hand.  Contact seems to calm subject 1.  Subject's hands remain clasped throughout remainder of session)_

_PP.         Do your arguments make you unhappy?_

_HY.       No_

_DM.      Not really.  You see, they are never really all that serious.  We have had some real serious fights over the years, but only a few._

_PP.         Can you tell me about one of those?_

_DM.      Sure.  Me and H**** actually separated for a few months in the summer.  You see, I was nominated for a quite prestigious art prize, and naturally I wanted H**** to be with me at the award ceremony.  We were all set to go and he got a call from work.  So he left me to go to the ceremony alone and went to his office.  He said he would get to the ceremony as soon as he could, but he never turned up at all.  I won the prize and he wasn't there to see it. [2]_

_PP.         How did that make you feel?_

_DM.      Like absolute shit.  I…, I don't think I can tell you how awful I felt that night, which should have been the most important night of my life.  Anyway, when H**** finally came home he acted like it was no big deal and told me that I was overreacting.  Well that was it, I packed my bags and left._

_PP.         What were your thoughts when you left?  Were you just doing it to teach him a lesson or did you think that your marriage was over?_

_DM.      Well I was really confused around that whole time.  When I walked out that door I meant to stay gone for good, because I couldn't understand how he could do that to me if he really loved me.  I mean, he knew how much his being there meant to me, right?   I actually took off my wedding ring and threw it in the river.  I figured that he couldn't possibly love me, which meant that he probably never really did, and that my whole life had been built around a lie._

_PP.         It must have been very upsetting for you._

_DM.      It sure was.  My whole world fell down around my ears right there._

_PP.         And H****, how did you feel about it?_

_HY.       I made the biggest mistake of my life and it almost cost me the one thing I hold dearer than my own life.  How do you think I felt about it?_

_PP.         Then what did you do about it?_

_HY.       I put it right.  It took me some time, but I did it.  And I swear to you by any deity you care to name, I would take my own life before I would put him through anything like that again.  Those months without him were as tough a penance as any I could have been given and I have learned my lesson very well.  Nothing is worth losing him for, nothing on this earth._

_PP.         Okay, some very strong sentiments there.  And D**, how did you feel about the situation?  You obviously went back to him.  Were you happy to do that?_

_DM.      Never happier.  I was wrong.  He did love me, he always has and he always will.  He didn't set out to hurt me deliberately.  He just made an error of judgment and I have forgiven him completely.  _

_PP.         Well that seems to have been quite a positive experience for both of you._

_DM.      Yeah it was.  And you know what he did after that?  He hired some guys to run the business for him and gave up work so that he could spend more time with me.  Isn't that great?  And my H****'s great, and I love him so much I could burst. [3]_

_(Session paused while subject 1 straddles subject 2's lap and subjects share a passionate kiss.  Counsellor allows the distraction, observes subjects and makes notes as part of case assessment.)_

_                                PP.         You both seem quite happy in the relationship now._

_                                HY.       Perfectly happy._

_(Subject 1 grins happily and nods his agreement.)_

_HY.       We always have been.  Naturally we have our ups and downs, mostly ups with hardly any very serious downs, but generally speaking we make each other very happy._

_PP.         Yes, I can see that.  Well we have almost come to the end of the session, but there is an exercise that I do that I have found helpful in understanding how people experience relationship.  How each of you experiences it a little differently.  It is a fun, playful, imaginative exercise, and I was wondering whether you would be willing to try it?_

_HY.       Okay._

_DM.      Sure. _

_PP.         Good.  Now I want you to just sit back, get very comfortable in your chairs and close your eyes.  No, it's okay, you can still hold hands.  Take a deep breath, let out all the tension in your body.  Now think about your relationship and each other.  Imagine that you were in a dream or a fantasy.  What symbolic forms would each of you appear as in that dream or fantasy, and what relationship would you bear to each other, how would you interact with each other?  Think about it for a moment.  Don't speak, just think of how you would relate to each other in the dream or fantasy.  Imagine where it would take place.  _

_(Session is paused for a moment while subjects imagine their fantasy.)_

_PP.         When you have thought of it I would like you to open your eyes… good.  Now H****, what did you imagine you were and what was D**in relation to you?_

_HY.        I was a lion in the jungle and he was a monkey up in a tree.  Now I know that there are no lions in the jungle, but this is a dream, right?  I was a lion in the jungle and I was prowling around beneath his tree keeping all the predators away while he was jumping around and playing up in his tree._

_PP.         You mean you were protecting him, making sure that he was safe?_

_HY.       Safe and happy, yes._

_PP.         Okay.  Now D**, what was your fantasy?_

_DM.      Well I was this little bird with pretty coloured feathers and all, but I had a broken wing, and H**** was a young boy, maybe 15 years old or so,  who hadn't been very happy growing up and he hadn't had very many nice things,  and he found me with my broken wing and he took me home and took care of me and nursed me back to health.  Then he took me back to where he found me and made as if to let me go, because I was all better now, and I was a wild creature and he didn't think it would be good to keep me caged up.  But I saw how sad he looked at having to let me go, so I flew back to him and landed on his shoulder.  I saw how happy he looked because I came back to him, and that made me happy too.  So I stayed with him because I wanted to, and he didn't need to keep me in a cage or anything.  And so we lived happily ever after together._

_PP.         Okay.  And H****, how did you see the end of your fantasy, did you see yourself continuing to prowl under the tree protecting the monkey?_

_HY.       Yes, for as long as he needed me to.  I was happy to do it and I would gladly make it my life's work to keep him safe and happy in his tree, and I was prepared to kill or be killed to keep him there._

_PP.         Good.  Well I think that's the end of the session.  Thank-you both for coming.  Now I think that this has been a very interesting session and I would like your permission to use a transcript of the session for training purposes., keeping your identities completely anonymous of course.  Would you consent to give your permission for that?_

_HY.       You're sure we won't be identified?_

_PP.         Absolutely.  I will sign a document to that effect._

_HY.       Alright.  D**, are you okay with that?_

_DM.      Sure, whatever.  So, what do we do now, do we schedule another session?_

_PP.         Actually no, I don't think that we will need any more sessions.  I am quite convinced that there is nothing at all wrong with your relationship.  In fact, I have seldom seen two people who love and care for each other as much as you two do, and I have asked to use the transcript of today's session for training as I thought that it would provide an excellent example of how arguments in a relationship are not necessarily an indication that there is something wrong and that they can even occur within a perfectly loving and stable relationship, such as you two obviously share.  Thank-you and good luck for the future.  It was a pleasure working with you both._

_HY.       Thank-you._

_DM.      Oh thank-you so much.  You have no idea how much that means to us._

_(Subject 1 embraces counsellor.)_

_SESSION ENDS_

Heero strode across the car-park to where they had left their S.U.V.  Duo followed in his wake, trotting to keep up.

"See, I told you that what that magazine said was a load of rubbish."  He said angrily.  He opened the passenger door of the car and held it open for Duo.

"Yeah, well I knew that too."  Duo retorted as he stood with his hands coquettishly on his hips.

"Just get in the car."  Heero grabbed Duo by the arm and thrust him towards the open door.

"Okay, okay."  Duo said and climbed up into the passenger seat.

"Waste of a perfectly good afternoon."  Heero turned the key in the ignition as if he were wringing the neck of a chicken.

"It was not wasted," Duo retorted as he fastened his seatbelt,  "At least we found out  that there really is nothing wrong with our relationship."

"I could have told you that!"  Heero exclaimed.  "In fact I did, but would you listen to me?  Oh no.  I am only your husband who loves and cares for you.  Why would you listen to me?  You would rather take the word of some quack counsellor who doesn't know you from Adam and…"

"Penny was not a quack" Duo interposed, "She was real nice actually.  Do you think we should ask her to dinner?"

"No I do not."  Heero said flatly.  "I'll have to have a serious word with that Quatre Barton-Winner."  He muttered to himself as he eased the car through the mid-afternoon traffic.

"It wasn't Q's fault," Duo said as he flicked idly through the contents of a CD case he had pulled from the glove compartment, "And besides, none of this would have happened if you and Tro hadn't been in the garage messing about with that stupid old heap of junk."

"I'll have you know that that car is a classic," Heero replied tersely, "And we were not messing about, we were re-building the engine.  And stop playing with that…"  He wrenched the CD case from Duo's hands, threw it over his shoulder into the back of the car… and the afternoon wore on.

[1] – Reference to events in 'Purple Hades', a previous story

[2] – Reference to events in 'Two Components', a previous story

[3] – Reference to events in 'Light Fantastic', a previous story


	11. Glass Houses

Please e-mail  me at drl451@aol.com for chapter 11


	12. An Understanding

An Understanding

By DRL

I'm standing in the doorway watching Trowa getting changed.  He loosens the knot of his tie, yanks it over his head and throws it over the back of a chair.  He then unfastens the first few buttons at the neck of his shirt, then those at the cuffs, pulls the tails free of the waist of his pants, and the shirt then goes the way of the tie, off over his head and across the back of the chair.  He then turns to face me, arms akimbo and, to coin a rather coarse phrase of Duo's, I almost cream my pants.  He is dressed only in pants, belt, shoes and socks, and as I feast my eyes on the smooth, sun-bronzed skin of his absolutely perfect body, I wonder whether a finer specimen of manhood exists on this planet.

He has been talking to me as he undresses, telling me about a meeting he had attended today, hence the formal attire.  Trowa does so hate formal wear and never wears a tie unless he absolutely has to.  He is now waiting for my response to what he has been saying.  Despite having been drooling over his body, I have taken in every word and am ready with a reply.

"You did absolutely the right thing my love."  I tell him.  

His beautiful face breaks into a beaming smile and his emerald green eyes sparkle with obvious pleasure at my approval.  No, I conclude, there can be no other.  My husband is surely the most magnificent being on earth and the colonies.  I can resist it no longer, I simply have to touch him.  I cross the short distance between us to stand before him, looking up at him as I have to since he is a good six inches and then some taller than I am.  Maintaining eye contact, I place my palms lightly on the smooth plane of his stomach and move them slowly upward towards his chest, relishing the feel of the firm musculature beneath the silken skin.  Moving ever upwards, my palms cross the darker aureoles of his nipples.  Much as I would like to, I do not linger here since my aim is not to arouse him but to satisfy my own craving for touch.  I move my hands steadily upward, across his lean shoulders, finally clasping my hungry fingers at the nape of his swan-like neck.  He in turn places his arms loosely about my waist and draws me to him, not tightly but gently so that our bodies are in contact, but only lightly.  You see, he knows exactly what it is that I need, he always does.  He knows how to read and interpret my subtlest signal and he reacts accordingly.  On another occasion, what would appear to be the same gestures on my part would result in a quick, rough coupling on the floor, but not today.  Trowa knows, Trowa always knows.

"Do you think so?"  He says, referring once again to the meeting and engulfing me in that mesmerising emerald gaze.

"Yes, I do," I respond, "But then you always do the right thing."  I tear my eyes from his and lay my head on his chest, once again just relishing the touch of him, the feel of him, the smell of him, drinking him in with all of my senses.

All of a sudden a most unwelcome thought comes to my mind unbidden.  What would I do if I no longer had my Trowa?  I push it immediately from my mind, but the thought, albeit fleeting, causes within me a frisson of abject terror.  I hold Trowa just that little bit closer.

"What's the matter darling?"  He asks, a subtle note of alarm entering his voice, "Are you alright?"

See what I mean?  I said nothing and did almost nothing, but he picked up on my mood and emotions immediately.  And _I_ am supposed to be the empath!   Like I say, he reads me like a book.

"I'm fine my love."  I reply.

"Are you sure?"  He asks, still concerned.  He runs a hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture.

I nod my head against his chest, fully aware of how ambiguous the gesture is, a nod feeling exactly the same as a shake to him, given our relative positions.  I suddenly raise my head and look up at him.

"Trowa, I love you."  I say earnestly, almost desperately, as if the declaration would somehow prevent my earlier thought from coming to pass.  "I love you so much."

Clearly sensing my mounting tension, he dispels it in a most effective manner.  He lowers his head and kisses me, lightly at first, then more intensely, as our tongues meet and meld.  My legs all but give way beneath me and I feel as though my arms about his neck are the only things preventing me from collapsing in a boneless heap at his feet.  After what seems like a blissful eternity, he breaks the kiss and, sweeping me up into his arms, he deposits me into the chair to keep company with his shirt and tie.

"I'll finish changing and then we'll go and see if we can't persuade Wufei and Treize to join us for dinner today.  Heero and Duo should be here any minute."

"Okay Trowa."  I say and I gaze dreamily at him.  He kisses me once more, then proceeds to finish changing.  I sigh contentedly as I watch him.  My life, my universe, my Trowa. 

Quatre is leaning against the doorjamb of the dressing room.  He appears to be listening attentively as I recount the details of a board meeting that I chaired today, but I know that he is watching me as I undress.  He likes looking at my body.  I don't think that it's anything special, but Quatre tells me that it is, and I'm not going to argue with him.  That is one of the things I love about him.  He is so appreciative of every tiny aspect of me, even what I consider to be my faults.  He makes me feel so good about myself.  There was a time , it is a long time ago now and almost forgotten, but there was definitely a time when I had very low self-esteem.  Meeting Quatre  put paid to all that.  His loving me gave me the confidence to love myself, and now everything I am today is due to him.

As I talk I loosen the knot of my tie, pull it over my head and throw it across the back of a chair.  I do the same with my shirt, then I turn to face him, bare chested, hands on hips.  My last statement was a question and I look at him, awaiting his response.  Even though I know he has been ogling my body, his answer comes seamlessly on cue.

"You did absolutely the right thing my love," He says, and he smiles at me, his obvious approval at the way I handled things written all over his angelic countenance.  As I said, he is so appreciative.  His smile broadens and mischief sparkles in his beautiful blue eyes as he steps towards me, stopping scant millimetres away from me, and looks up at me. 

Now, I know that my sensitive and emotional little love needs something from me, but I'm not sure what just yet.  Quatre is an extremely needy person emotionally, but he cannot always articulate his needs.  It may be physical contact, verbal interaction or merely a little attention that he craves, but he cannot say which because he hardly knows himself.  Therefore, those closest to him need to learn to read him and act accordingly.  Now don't get me wrong, this does not mean that he is hard work, and even if he were, it would be a labour of love to me and I would do it willingly.  

                He lays his hands on my stomach and runs them lightly over my torso.  This often means that he wants to make love, but then again, not always.  When he reaches my chest his hands glide smoothly over the area and come to rest clasped at the base of my neck, his eyes still locked with mine, but his expression softer now, the glint of mischief dulled to a soft gleam of contentment.  No, he doesn't want to make love.  If he did he would have lingered around my nipples a little longer.  He just needs a reassuring little cuddle.  I place my arms about his waist and draw him to me, not too tightly since I don't want to arouse him, merely to satisfy his need for touch and physical closeness.

"Do you think so?" I ask in response to his last statement, drowning in the limpid pools of blue that are his eyes.

                "Yes I do," He replies, "But then you always do the right thing."  He then lays his head on my chest and I look down onto soft, silken hair, the colour of ripe corn.  I feel his body relax against mine and I know that I have interpreted him correctly.  

We stand like this for some moment, in the centre of our dressing room, just holding each other, then suddenly I sense that all is not well with Quatre.  I don't know why I know, and I don't even know what I know, but something is definitely wrong.  He tightens his hold around my neck, and this confirms my suspicions.

"What's the matter darling?" I ask him, trying not to sound too anxious, lest I aggravate him further, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine my love."  He replies.

"Are you sure?"  I ask.  I don't believe he's fine for one second.  I feel his body tense against mine.  There, I knew it – fine my foot!  I run a hand up and down his back in the hope of soothing him a little – it usually works anyway.  He gestures with his head against my chest in response to my question but whether he nods or shakes his head I cannot tell, not that it matters because I can still feel the tension in his little body.  He suddenly raises his head and looks up at me with a stricken expression that it pains me to see.

"Trowa, I love you," He says, uttering the words with an intensity and fervour that I fail utterly to comprehend, "I love you so much."

I don't know that is troubling Quatre so, but I know what to do about it.  I lower my head until our lips meet, and I kiss him.  I kiss him only lightly at first, waiting for his reaction, but as I feel his body relax against mine once again, his tongue enters my mouth seeking mine, and the kiss intensifies.  We kiss deeply like this for some time which we both enjoy immensely, but eventually his relaxation becomes so complete that I feel compelled to act before he collapses in a heap on the floor.  With reluctance I break the kiss, gather him up into my arms and set him down onto the chair that formerly held my shirt and tie.

"I'll finish changing and then we'll go and see if we can't persuade Wufei and Treize to join us for dinner today.  Heero and Duo should be here any minute."  I tell him.

"Okay Trowa."  He says, and gazes up at me with that look of utter devotion that simply makes me melt.  Unable to resist, I kiss him once more then I continue disrobing.  I steal a glance at him as I dress, and I realise that my entire world is there in that chair, regarding me as reverently as if I were a God, and for the millionth time I wonder what I ever did to deserve him – my beautiful, wonderful Quatre.


	13. Tranquilla Nox

Please e-mail  me at drl451@aol.com for chapter 13


	14. Luminary Willow

Luminary Willow

By DRL

Wufei slowly turned the pages of the book he had come to the library to find, and sighed wistfully as he browsed through the colourful photographs.  Since he and Treize had begun their sojourn at the Barton-Winner mansion, this was the third time that had he had felt compelled to seek out the book, and he wondered whether he were developing an obsession.  It seemed as though for the past few weeks weddings and marriage had been constantly on his mind.  He looked up as he heard the door open and watched as Treize entered and gracefully crossed the room towards him.  He instantly took in his husband's smart but casual ensemble of well-cut, flat-fronted trousers in a black, fine wool gabardine and a lightweight cashmere sweater in a deep blood-red colour, and it occurred to him that only Treize could wear such a shade of red with auburn hair and look as stunning as he did. 

"Fei, I've been looking for you everywhere."  The older man said as he stopped at the sofa Wufei was curled up on and sank to his knees before him, concern etched in every aristocratic feature.

"Not everywhere, obviously."  Wufei replied tartly, but without rancour.  "Back from your shopping trip so soon?"  He asked as he closed the book. 

"Well Hugo called me and told me that you were not feeling very well, so I came back.  Once I had heard that I didn't have the heart for shopping any more.  Are you okay?"

Wufei clicked his tongue impatiently. "Oh Treize," He said testily, "You worry too much, and Hugo doesn't help.  It was nothing, just a headache, which two aspirin soon took care of.  It's much better now."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."  Treize said as he rose and took a seat on the sofa beside Wufei. "Hugo is only doing his job, and doing it extremely well I might add."  He sank back into the plump, down-filled cushions of the comfortable old sofa, and crossed one long leg elegantly over the other.  "What on earth are you doing with that?"  Wufei followed Treize's gaze and saw that he was staring intently at the book in his hands.  "It's Quatre and Trowa's wedding album isn't it?"

"Yes, I er..., I was just looking at it."  Wufei stammered, and then made a decision.  It was now or never.

"Treize, I wish _we_ could have had one of these, I wish _we_ could have had a proper wedding."  As he said this he looked down at the floor, studying the pattern on the rug intently in an attempt to avoid see the expression on Treize's face that he knew his statement would evoke.

Treize stared at Wufei in stunned silence.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words were forthcoming, so he closed it again.  He opened it once more, but could say no more than, "Fei, I...," Then words failed him once again.  Wufei forced himself to look up at Treize, and saw the desperation in his eyes, like a cornered animal.  No, this was not how it was supposed to be.  He had not meant to put Treize on the spot, as if he, Wufei, had accused him of something.  He quickly put the book down on the small lamp-table beside the sofa, turned towards Treize and drew the older man to him, snaking his arms about his neck and holding him tightly.

"Treize, please don't look like that, I didn't mean anything.  I only meant that it would have been nice to have been married to you properly, I mean in front of all our friends and everyone.  We never talk about it and we never celebrate our wedding anniversary.  I don't even know when our anniversary _is_, for heaven's sake!"  He laughed mirthlessly.  "It's almost as though we'd done something wrong that would be best forgotten.  I just wish that I had had a wedding day that I could be proud and happy about, just like Quatre and Trowa, or Heero and Duo. I am so proud and happy to be married to you Treize, I just wish I could show that to everyone, rather than acting as if it never happened or as if it were something we should be ashamed of."

Treize disengaged Wufei's arms from around his neck, and manoeuvred their bodies until their eyes met.

"I had no idea you felt like that Fei."  He said gravely.

"I didn't really, but I do now."  Wufei replied."   I never gave it more than just a passing thought until quite recently.  In fact, it began when I was in the hospital.  Do you remember that awful night when I sent you to away to sleep in the little bedroom, and wound up lying awake most of the night?"  Treize nodded, and pulled Wufei gently to him again, laying the younger man's head on his shoulder and cradling the small body in his arms.  He was reassured now that he saw that there were no recriminations and that Wufei was not actually angry with him.  "Well, to stop myself from getting anxious about being alone, I though about many things that night and our marriage was one of them.  It dawned on me that I didn't remember very much about our wedding at all.  I don't actually remember much about that whole period of my life and I am mostly grateful for that, but I wish I could remember our wedding.  It was such an important event in my life that changed it in so many wonderful ways.  It just seems a shame that I have no memory of it."

"Do you remember anything about it at all?"  Treize prompted gently.

"No, not much, I'm sorry."  Wufei replied.

"Well I'll tell you about it if you like,"  Treize offered, "Only let's go upstairs.  It's a long story and it's quite likely that we'll be interrupted if we stay here."

Wufei reverently replaced the wedding album in its cabinet, and he and Treize went upstairs to their room as they always did if they did not feel particularly sociable for one reason or another.  They knew that they would not be disturbed either by their hosts or by the servants until they either requested attendance or emerged of their own accord, nor would they have to make any excuses.  When they reached the bedroom Wufei, in a boisterous and playful mood, insisted that despite it being early afternoon, they snuggle together in bed, beneath the bedclothes but still fully clothed.

"So, where would you like me to start?"  Treize asked as toyed lovingly with Wufei's hair.  He lay on his back with Wufei's small body pressed close against him, one thin arm thrown across Treize's body and his head tucked beneath his chin.  One leg, crooked at the knee, rested against Treize's thigh.

"Well I'll tell you what I remember, and you can fill in from there."  Wufei replied.  "I remember you coming to get me from the temple.  By the way, how did you know even know I was there?"  Treize laughed insouciantly.

"I may not have wielded the military or political power I once did at that time, but I was not completely bereft of intelligence sources."  He said.  "I knew exactly where all of you were and what you were doing.  At first I thought that you might come looking for me after the war, but when you didn't, I went looking for you.  As soon as I heard you had entered the Shaolin Temple I went there immediately to get you out.  I was not about to let you waste your life as a Buddhist monk."

"I didn't know what I was going to do.  I was so confused at that time."  Wufei said quietly.

"Why did you not come to me Fei?"  Treize asked gently, "I thought we meant something to each other."

"So did I Treize," Wufei said with mounting fervour, "But think about it.  A secret relationship during the war was one thing, but how could we possibly be together in peacetime?  An ex-terrorist and His Excellency General Kushrenada?  I couldn't see any future in it and I felt sure that you wouldn't either, so I went to the temple to meditate and think things out.  Only it didn't quite work out that way."  This last sentence he added in a mellower tone.

"No indeed."  Treize said dryly.  "I still shudder when I think what might have happened to you in that place had I not arrived when I did.  You were well in the throes of a mental breakdown and no-one in the temple seems to have noticed.  I still can't believe it."  He said with passion.

"Don't judge them too harshly Treize."  Wufei said soothingly.  "It's exactly the kind of place where someone with the kind of problems I had can hide out very easily.  That could be why I went there, I don't know.  I think I would have ended up killing myself."  He added slowly.  "I remember that I thought about it a lot.  I just couldn't see any reason not to."

"Not even me?"  Treize asked quietly.  Wufei raised himself up onto one elbow so that he looked Treize directly in the eye.

"Don't you see, you were my main reason _for_ doing it?"  He said earnestly.  "Life without you would have been no life at all, so I didn't see what else there was for me to do.  You had disappeared by that time, and when the war ended I just assumed that you would pick up the threads of your 'grand' life, in which I could see no place for  an ex-terrorist gundam pilot."

Treize was extremely uncomfortable with where the conversation was going, but he had to admit that Wufei was right.  They were completely open about everything else in their relationship, but this period in their lives was a closed book.  They had never discussed it, although this was not by design, at least not on Treize's part.  He had taken his cue from Wufei, and since Wufei had never mentioned it and seemed content to remain silent on the matter, he had done the same.  The doctor that had helped Wufei through the deep depression he had sunk into after the war had actually advised Treize that this might happen with certain episodes in the young man's life as a result of post-traumatic stress, so Treize was content to let it go at that – until now. 

Although Wufei seemed quite calm as they talked, if a little intense, Treize was keeping a weather-eye open for signs of distress.  Some of the memories Wufei was recounting were not all that pleasant, and he was reluctant to let the younger man's mind dwell on such things.  He could also see though, that Wufei was determined to have everything out in the open at last, and he grudgingly admitted that this was no bad thing.  The clandestine nature of the events surrounding their marriage had weighed heavily upon him for many years, and if the truth be told he was relieved to finally be able to talk openly about them.  He gently lowered Wufei's head to his chest again and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

"Silly boy."  He said with good humour. "Still, I can see why you might have thought that.  What you failed to take into account though, is that being His Excellency Treize Kushrenada, I can do whatever the hell I like, and everyone else can either like it, or lump it."

"Yes, I am well aware of that now."  Wufei acknowledged with a light laugh.

"Anyway Fei, let me tell you about our wedding, and why it had to be the way it was."  Treize said gravely.  "Firstly, let me assure you that in no way were you forced or coerced into anything.  Everything you did, you did of your own free will, or as much will as you had anyway."  He added in an undertone.

"I know that Treize."  Wufei looked up at him with an affectionate smile, and stroked his cheek lightly.  "I remember you proposing to me.  'Marry me and I'll take care of you' you said.  I don't remember my answer, but I must have said yes, because you are too honourable a man to have married me otherwise."

"Thank-you for that my pet."  Treize said, and pressed a light but fervent kiss to his husband's smooth brow.  "You did say yes, and the wedding was hastily arranged.  It had to be that way because of your mental condition.  You see, when I took you from the temple, I knew that something was very wrong with you, and it was probably more mental that physical.  I took you to Switzerland to see a top psychiatric specialist and he diagnosed severe clinical depression, with one or two minor complications thrown in for good measure.  He warned me that you were a high suicide risk, and that you needed immediate treatment.  However, as you were still considered a minor, you could not enter his facility of your own volition.  You could only be placed there by a parent, a guardian or a spouse.  So the only way I could get you in there was to adopt you or marry you.  As I had every intention of marrying you anyway, I simply brought the whole thing forward.  I obtained a special marriage license and we were married at a discreet ceremony in a registrars office in Geneva, after which, you went straight into the clinic.  The whole thing took no more than 3 days to arrange, from start to finish.  This will make you laugh," Treize added with a wry grin, "We didn't even consummate our marriage until a good six or seven months later, when you came out of the clinic."  Wufei did indeed laugh, most heartily.

"I think I remember the ceremony."  He said at length.  "I remember a small room, a man in a suit with a book in his hand, and two other men who were complete strangers to me – witnesses I expect."

"They might have been strangers to you then, but you know both of them quite well now."  Treize said.

"Really?"  Wufei raised his head to meet Treize's steely gaze, which sparkled with merriment.  "Who were they?"  He asked.

"One was Jarvis and the other was de Villeforte."  Wufei's eyes widened with incredulity.  He knew both men extremely well.  Jarvis was Treize's loyal and devoted Private Secretary, and de Villeforte was their faithful old retainer at the 18th Century chateau in South-West France that was the couple's main residence.  "I had to use people that I could trust because the whole thing had to remain secret, at least for the time being, until you were well again."

"Oh!"  Wufei exclaimed with delight, "I'm so glad" He lowered his head to Treize's chest again and held him tightly, "I'm so glad it wasn't strangers, that it was people I know, people _we_ know.  It makes it just that little bit more like being married properly, in front of friends."

"Is that _so_ important to you my sweet?"  Treize asked gently.

"Yes...,"   Wufei began, then he shook his head decisively.  "No, it isn't, well at least it shouldn't be.  We _are_ married, and that should be the important thing, right?"  He said, speaking like a man trying hard to convince himself.  "It doesn't really matter.  I probably only want it because I can't have it.  You know what they say, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

"Who says you can't have it?"  Treize said with mock indignation.  "You're forgetting who it is you are married to."  He continued grandly.  "As the consort of His Excellency Treize Kushrenada, you can have anything and everything you want.  Whatever my Wufei wants, my Wufei gets."

"What do you mean?"  Wufei said, his confusion tinged with hope, "How?"

"We'll simply do it all again.  We'll renew our vows in the grandest, most lavish ceremony your imagination can devise, and you can invite God almighty if you have a mind to, or in your case perhaps Buddah or...?"  His words were abruptly curtailed by Wufei's lips upon his in a searing kiss.

"Treize Kushrenada, you are the most wonderful man in the whole world!"  Wufei said exuberantly, as he clasped Treize to him, crushing the breath from the older man's body.  "Thank-you so much."  He claimed Treize's lips again in another kiss, this time with a little less frenzy, and rather more passion.  Wufei broke the kiss and lay his head fondly on Treize's chest, his fingers idly tracing light patterns on the soft fabric of his husband's sweater.  "Can we really do this, legally I mean?"  He asked.  "Won't we be committing bigamy of some kind or something?"  This elicited a light laugh from Treize.

"Of course we can do it my pet."  He replied.  "It will be your show though, so I will leave all the arrangements to you, but I will ask Jarvis to come over to take care of the details.  Simply pick a date, and take it from there."

"I already know the date I want."  Wufei said quietly, loosening his arms about Treize's body, and raising his head so that their eyes connected.  "Well, I don't actually know it but..."  

"It was the 24th April."  Treize supplied, anticipating his husband's next question.  Wufei smiled at him and gave him another brief kiss.

"And we'll celebrate our anniversary on that day every single year from now on, to make up for the past thirteen years."  He said happily.

"Fourteen."  Treize corrected, but Wufei was not listening.  His eyes had suddenly widened in horror.  

"The 24th April?    That means that I only have three months, almost to the day!"  He threw back the bedclothes and scrambled to his feet.  "Oh my god, that's no time at all.  Come on Treize, phone Jarvis and tell him he has to get over here right away."  He tugged impatiently at his husband's sleeve.  "I have so much to do and so little time, perhaps I should hire a wedding planner?  I'll ask Jarvis to find a good one."

"Oh dear, what have I started."  Treize muttered as he slowly hauled himself upright and rose, smoothing the creases from his trousers with the palm of his hand.

A half an hour later, the call to Jarvis duly accomplished, they had both repaired to the Barton-Winner mansion bar, Treize finding himself in dire need of fortified liquid refreshment.  Treize toyed with his second glass of vintage Armagnac as Wufei sipped from a glass of Perrier water.  They sat side by side on stools at the bar, both staring pensively into their glasses.  Wufei broke the companionable silence.

"Treize?"

"Hmmm?"

"You remember you told me that we didn't consummate our marriage until I came out of the clinic, what was it, seven months later?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Why not?  I assume that we must have spent at least one night together before you packed me off to the clinic."  Treize sighed heavily, swirled the brandy around his glass one last time, threw his head back and tipped the amber liquid down his throat before replying.

"Terrible as it may sound, we actually didn't.    I didn't want to make love to you that night, so I deliberately arranged things so that you went into the clinic hours after we got married."

"Why?"  Wufei demanded vehemently, righteous indignation and downright anger welling up within him in equal measure.  Treize hesitated before replying, using the pause to pour himself another generous measure of the fine brandy.

"To tell you the absolute truth, it was because, it would be easier for an annulment to be granted if the marriage was never consummated."  He said in a monotone, looking down at the granite surface of the bar.  "As I told you, you married me when the balance of your mind was unsound.  Although you did agree at the time, I wanted to leave a way open for you, should you change your mind at a later date, such as when you left the clinic, fully recovered.  A divorce would have had too many implications for both me and you, so an annulment was better, just as if the thing had never been."  Wufei reached out and entwined his fingers with Treize's as the older man's hand rested on his gabardine-clad knee.

"As I said, a very honourable man."  He said and gave it an affectionate squeeze.


	15. Corporal Stripe

Corporal Stripe

By DRL

I stroll through the grounds and messuages of the Barton-Winner estate with a heavy tread and an even heavier heart.  Spring is just around the corner and the gardens, absolutely beautiful at the height of summer, are dull and uninspiring.  Quatre & Trowa's gardeners have done their level best and the grounds are neat, trim and tidy, but being out here has utterly failed to lift my mood.  It would have been the same back home in France, I concede with a sigh of resignation.  No garden can look its best at this time of year, not even my own.  Had this happened at home, I would have done the same thing – fled to the garden in an attempt to calm my turbid emotions, with an equal lack of success I daresay.

In mitigation for my behaviour, I suppose I have been a little tense for some days now.  Wufei's recovery from his eye surgery has not been as straightforward as we had all hoped, much to his annoyance and my consternation.  He has a tendency towards glaucoma, which was a complication that exacerbated his original condition and is now hindering his recovery.  It causes some quite severe symptoms, such as headaches, dizziness and sometimes nausea and when in the grip of these, Fei's spirits sink quite considerably.  Knowing from past experience that his is a nature prone to fits of depression, this has been worrying me greatly but I am at a loss as to what to do about it.  Duo Maxwell-Yuy, who's naturally exuberant and garrulous presence usually has a magically uplifting effect on Fei at such times, is out of town with Heero, so even this resource is lost to me.  Thank goodness for my private secretary Jarvis, is all I can say right now.  His being here, working with Fei on the arrangements for our wedding vow renewal ceremony, has taken Fei's mind off his health problems so he has not been too bad of late, but nevertheless…  My mind is still far from easy about the situation, and yesterday my worst fears were realised.  

Fei had been laid low by a severe headache, and his nurse Hugo administered some medication and confined him to bed, the sterling fellow.  I sat with him for a while, and he eventually drifted into a light doze.  One inevitable consequence of Jarvis's being here is that we invariably end up discussing the various business and administrative matters that he is employed to attend to on my behalf, and this was ultimately the root cause of the near-tragedy that followed.  

While I was sitting with Fei, Johannes, the Barton-Winners' butler, came to me with a message from Jarvis, saying that he would like to speak to me at my convenience.  Well like a fool, and without a thought for poor Fei, I immediately betook myself to the study, which Jarvis has quite taken over.  Luckily Quatre & Trowa have a rule that they never break, which is that their time at their respective offices is for work and their time at home is for each other and for their friends.  This means that they never really use the study and Jarvis has been given the green light to 'knock himself out', as Duo Maxwell-Yuy would say.  The outcome of this thoughtless action on my part was that Fei woke up, grew bored with lying alone in a darkened room and decided to come looking for me.  While descending that beautiful, but under these circumstances quite dangerous sweeping staircase that leads from the second storey of the house to the ground floor, He suddenly fell prey to a dizzy spell, lost his equilibrium and fell almost half the flight to the hall floor.  He was not seriously hurt as it turned out, just a few bumps and bruises, but he could have been.  My god, he could have been...  It can't have done his eyes any good either.  'No trauma' Dr Scrivener said.  Well I'd say that this was most definitely a trauma, and no mistake.  

The whole thing was my fault, of course.  I should never have left him in the first place, and having done so, I should have asked Hugo to step in and sit with him while I was out of the room.  It would have been a simple matter and after all, it's what I pay him for.  Bloody fool!  How could I have done such a stupid thing?  I'm supposed to be taking care of him and this is what I allow to happen.  I shall silence my critics right now and admit that yes, I am wallowing in self-pity somewhat, but I reserve the right to do so.  Wufei is my husband; nothing should be more important to me than him, but in times of crisis, times when he needs me most, I seem to be quite adept at finding myself elsewhere.  Several weeks ago, after promising to stay with him, I left his side after his eye surgery and allowed him to come round from the anaesthetic effectively blind, alone and frightened in a strange place – and now this.  I am, of course, consumed with guilt  over yesterday's incident, which is probably why I acted the way I did just now and why I am presently skulking away in the garden.

As soon as I awoke this morning the day begun badly, and it went downhill from then onward.  I went from fast asleep to wide awake in an instant, which is a thing I never do, usually spending a minute or two in a kind of semi-conscious trance before slipping from one state to the other.  Having awoken thus rudely, I soon realised that Fei was not spooned up against me as he usually does when we sleep.  At first I assumed that he had gone to relieve himself in the bathroom, but as I slid a hand across the place where he had lain, I found it to be cold.  Fei had evidently been gone for some time.  A _frisson_ of alarm ran through me, and suddenly fearful lest he had been taken ill, I threw back the bedspread and swung my legs to the floor.  I switched on a bedside lamp and read the time on my wristwatch by its light.  I always wear it to bed, which is a thing that always causes Fei great mirth because he can see no reason why.  It was almost 06:15, a little early for him to be up and about without good reason, which only lent weight to my fears.  

I padded briskly to the en-suite bathroom, and entered the separate lavatory without knocking.  Fei and I have been married for fourteen years, far too long for there to be modesty of any kind between us.  We have absolutely nothing to hide from each other.  "Fei, are you alright?"  I said as I entered, but to my surprise I found the small room to be empty.  I returned to the bedroom, pausing to absently pull on a pair of pyjama bottoms and a robe to cover my nakedness before setting out in search of my errant husband.  

As I began my search the house was dark and silent, and not a soul besides myself appeared to be stirring.  This was not surprising since it was a Saturday and Quatre & Trowa had no work to go to so there was no need for them to be abroad at such an hour, consequently the servants' day could start a little later also.  I began with the most likely places, such as the library, gym and study, without success.  As I extended my search to other parts of the house which were less likely, I encountered one or two of the domestic staff, whom I promptly recruited.  Large as the house was, we searched it from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, just to be sure and with the three of us looking, it soon became clear that wherever Wufei was, he was nowhere within the Barton-Winner mansion.  

By the time I had reluctantly accepted this fact a whole hour had passed and the house was beginning to stir.  Numbly, I returned to our bedroom and rapidly dressed myself, availing myself of the opportunity to check to see whether any note or message had been left.  I had, of course, done this before but one does these futile things at such times, looking in places where one has looked before without success, hoping against hope that by some miracle whatever it was one sought would magically appear.  Well needless to say, nothing did.  Everything was as it was when we went to bed last night.  All of his clothes and shoes were present and correct (as far as I was able to discern anyway) and no messages were left.  Even his cellphone was still lying in a draw beside mine, where he had thrown it on the day we arrived here.  It has lain there ever since, inert and silent since he has had no real need of it, never really having left the house from that day to this.

It was this fact that made the whole thing so perplexing... and so worrying.  Wufei has not left the Barton-Winner house since our arrival after his discharge from the hospital.  True enough, he has been to Heero & Duo's apartment once or twice, but this could hardly be termed 'going out' since he was picked up outside the front door, conveyed to the apartment by car and then went straight from the parking garage beneath their apartment building to the apartment via that special elevator they have that goes directly up to the penthouse, bypassing all other floors.  Unfortunately for Fei, these were not very successful visits.  Heero & Duo's apartment is very white and very bright.  That large wall-window that they have, breathtaking though the view from it is, lets in an awful lot of light, and this is just what Fei can very much do without right now.  The problem was that they had no means of shuttering the window, not previously having had any need to do so.  Heero has since spoken to a company about some sort of electronic shuttering system, but until this has been installed I would really rather Fei not go back there, unless it was after dark perhaps.  The Barton-Winner mansion is not exactly what one would call a dark house, but at least the curtains can be drawn.

Since discovering Wufei's absence that morning, a knot of fear and apprehension had been steadily growing within me, tightening and constricting my gut until it had reached a point where I could scarcely breathe.  At that stage I dared not even think about what might have happened to him, although such thoughts were difficult to dispel.  I left the room and descended the stairs on leaden feet.  As I descended I saw Trowa & Quatre standing in the hall, deep in serious conversation with Jarvis and the butler Johannes.  Johannes had obviously ignored my orders to him not to wake the young masters.  The disappearance of a guest under their very roof was something that he obviously felt they should be informed of without delay, and I don't say that he wasn't right, but still, I hated to disturb them.  Trowa, who was standing directly facing the staircase, was the first to spot me.  He followed me discreetly with his eyes as I came down the stairs, but said nothing and gave no further reaction.  Quatre however, suddenly paused in the middle of the statement he was making and turned to face me.  He had had his back to me and so could not possibly have seen me.  I'm sure I made no sound and Trowa definitely did not give away my presence by any sign or gesture of his own, so I suppose that it was Quatre's famous empathic powers that told him that there was a soul in torment at six o'clock.  The worry and trepidation I felt must have been written all over my face because as he turned, his own worried frown melted into a look filled with such sympathy and understanding that it was all I could do not to burst into tears right there and then.  My eyes definitely welled up, so I was grateful for the distraction when he advanced upon me and enfolded me in his arms.

"Treize, I'm so sorry."  He said earnestly, as though he were personally responsible for the whole situation. 

When he eventually released me from his embrace we repaired to a small but comfortable sitting room just off the hallway.  Trowa, ever the practical one, quizzed me minutely about the circumstances of Wufei's disappearance while Quatre fussed over me and ordered Johannes to bring me a cup of hot, sweet tea.  I don't mind admitting, I would sooner have had a shot of good, hard liquor, but I'm sure he meant well.  I told then all I could, which was almost nothing.  While I was speaking a few of the servants came in to report that they had searched the grounds, as Trowa had asked them to do and had come up empty.   I was not in the least surprised.  Dawn had not yet broken when I had discovered Wufei's absence.  What would he be doing in the garden in the dark, especially when he could barely see in broad daylight?

At this point Trowa decided that it was time to alert the authorities, and asked me whether I would mind if he contacted the police.  I have to say that my heart leaped at this suggestion, because it tacitly implied that something untoward had happened to my Fei.  This was a thought that I had been carefully pushing to the back of my mind all morning, but now I had no option but to look it dead in the face.  

"Dear God!" I groaned, and bowed my head, covering my face with my hands.  Quatre, who was seated beside me, placed an arm round my shoulders and drew me gently to him.  Dumbly, I nodded my acquiescence and Trowa withdrew, doubtless to carry out his suggestion.  I remained with Quatre in the sitting room, his gently murmured platitudes and words of comfort washing vainly over me, while my mind play out, with cold precision, the many dreadful and unpleasant things that could be happening to Wufei right at that very moment.   The reality could never have been worse than the horrors that my over-active mind conjured up and when I could stand it no longer, I tore myself away from Quatre's embrace and rose from the sofa.

"I can't just sit here Quatre, I have to do something, I have to find him."  I said, and made for the door.  Quatre had risen also.  He followed after me and caught me by the arm, but whether to prevent me (thought I seriously doubt whether he would have been able to) or to support me I never discovered, since at that point the door suddenly opened, and Trowa re-entered the room, followed by a silver-haired man, dressed as though for a round of golf, in plaid slacks, polo shirt and v-necked sweater.  Quatre gave the newcomer a wan but grateful smile as he entered. 

"Paul, thank-you for coming so quickly." He said, and he introduced the man to me as Paul Ashcroft, Commissioner of Police for the district.  In spite of everything, I raised an eyebrow in surprise, although I don't know why.  I should have expected no less of a turnout for the Barton-Winners.  Two uniformed officers had also entered the room, and these turned out to be the chief and assistant chief of police.  When Trowa said he was calling in the police, he really meant it!  No merely dialling 999 (911) for Quatre & Trowa.

These three men subjected me to a tactful but thorough interrogation for almost an hour, asking questions that ranged from why we were here in the first place, through whether Wufei had ever done anything of the kind before, to what he liked to eat for breakfast.   I wished to god I could have told them that yes, Fei did this sort of thing all the time, but this was the most worrying aspect of the whole thing.  Fei never went anywhere without letting me know... _never_.  Back at home, even after we have had a little bit of a tiff, though he cannot quite bring himself to tell me directly, he always leaves a message via one of the staff, telling me where he has gone and roughly when he will be back.  The whole thing was so completely out of character for him, which made it so hard to accept that he had left of his own volition, although this was always a possibility.

 When they had finished the chief and his assistant withdrew to marshal their forces.  Commissioner Ashcroft remained for a short while, simply to assure me that no effort would be spared in the search for Wufei and that squads of officers were already combing the area.  He also told me that he had ordered a complete news blackout on the story, so at least the mansion would not be beset by reporters and the like.  I was particularly grateful for this for Quatre & Trowa's sake.  His parting words caused me even greater worry however.  Before leaving he said that the most plausible theory was that Wufei had been kidnapped for ransom and that if a ransom demand was indeed made, under no circumstances was I to enter into negotiations with the kidnappers or accede to their demands, but that he was to be informed immediately.  I asked if there was anything I could do but predictably, he told me that the best thing I could do was sit and wait for news.  

When he had gone I sat in silence for a while, his words resounding around my head – 'kidnapped for ransom'.  I recalled reading somewhere that most kidnap victims were killed within hours of their capture.  I know that under normal circumstances, Wufei is more than capable of looking after himself in almost any situation, which is why I am not too insistent on his being accompanied by bodyguards everywhere he goes.  After all, I was not born yesterday and I am well aware what an excellent kidnap target he is.  However, these are far from normal circumstances.  Fei's vision is severely impaired at the moment (although it is improving all the time), and he is in an extremely delicate condition, what with his recovery not going so well and the glaucoma's debilitating symptoms.   Throughout my interview with the police Quatre had been sitting beside me on the leather sofa, a thin arm solicitously around my shoulders and his free hand clasping mine.  I was very grateful to him for this, because somehow his mere presence calmed and soothed me.  Now, I once again tore myself free from his ministrations and got to my feet.  Sit and wait for news?  Not bloody likely!    I made for the door, but as I did so I heard something of a commotion taking place in the entrance hall just outside.  I paused for a moment with my hand on the door handle, listening to the excited murmur of voices, then my heart soared as I picked out one very familiar, very cherished voice.  It was Wufei.  I threw open the door and rushed out into the hall.

In the centre of the entrance hall was a rough circle of uniformed police officers, and in the centre of them, 'O frabjous day' [1] was Wufei, '_My_ beamish boy' [2], flanked on either side by Jarvis and Trowa.  As I had heard from inside the sitting room, there appeared to be some altercation in progress, but nothing of what was said registered with me, although it was all perfectly audible.  I almost swooned from the wave of relief that swept over me as I saw the husband I never thought to see again, standing not twenty feet from me and arguing for all he was worth, for all the world as though he had not a care besides making his rather vociferous point.  Quatre had followed me out of the sitting room and though I expected him to engulf Wufei in an effusive welcome, he surprised me by remaining at my side and placing a supporting arm about my waist as I swayed unsteadily.  

"It's alright," he said quietly to me, "He's not hurt."  Empathic powers again I concluded, since as he said this my eyes were frantically scanning Wufei's body for signs of violence.  Reassured on this point my turbid emotions began to undergo a transition.  Five minutes previously, had I been asked what I would have done had Wufei suddenly appeared before me, hale, hearty and on fighting form, I would have sworn that I would have taken him in my arms, clasped him to my breast and never let him go.  Inexplicably though, as I watched the spectacle, this was the last thing I felt like doing.  As I stood in that hall regarding Wufei, dressed  as he was in a sweatshirt and jogging pants, all I wanted to do was to take him by the shoulders and shake  him to within an inch of his life.  Quatre must have sensed this too, because his arm around my waist tightened and he said "Treize, no!" in a shocked whisper.  From Wufei's attire I thought I could guess what had happened and the clearer it became, the angrier I became.

"Chang Wufei, just where do you think you've been?"  I said, and under the circumstances, I'm quite proud of the calm but stentorian voice in which I delivered this statement and the _sang froid_ I managed to maintain.  A tense silence fell as all eyes turned toward me.

"Treize!"  Wufei exclaimed with a flattering mixture of pleasure and apology.  He took a few quick steps toward me..., and then stopped dead in his tracks.  His apologetic smile gave way to a frown of confusion as he looked at me.  If my face was anything like I felt, it must have looked like a storm cloud.

"Where. Have. You. Been?"  I asked again equally as sternly, punctuating each word.  Wufei shrank visibly.  He knew he was in trouble.   During our long years of marriage, although he loses his temper with me fairly regularly (it's nothing but bluster really, and usually not for anything I have actually done myself), I could count the number of times I myself have really gotten angry with him on the fingers of one hand.

"I…, I went for a jog." He stammered, then stood there, chewing his lower lip like a recalcitrant schoolboy.  

Good old Trowa, practical, dependable Trowa, in obvious anticipation of the domestic _contretemps_ that was about to ensue, began to round up the police officers and ushered them out of the house with profuse apologies and fulsome thanks.  Quatre picked up the cue and suggested that we step into the sitting room he and I had just left because we could 'talk more comfortably' there.  Quatre is an absolute pet, but he can be so mealy mouthed at times.  I gestured for Wufei to enter the room, followed him in, closed the door and leaned against, effectively preventing his egress.  Although this was not my reason for taking up this stance, I fully realised that this is how it would appear to Wufei.

"Well?"  I demanded, and in true Wufei fashion, he began with his usual first line of defence – righteous indignation.

"Why are you so angry with me, I went for a jog, I told you.  I can't see anything wrong with that."  He said tartly, and do you know, I really believe that he couldn't?  Well, in the tirade that followed, I told him just what _was_ wrong with it.

"Have you any idea how much trouble you have caused this morning?"  I asked him.  "You decide to go for a jog, you tell no one, leave no message, for goodness sake, you don't even take a cellphone with you.  You are not exactly in the peak of health at the moment.  What would have happened if you had been taken ill?  Remember what happened on the staircase yesterday?  What if you had had another dizzy spell?  And going off alone like that at such an ungodly hour.  Surely I don't need to remind you that there are some unscrupulous people out there who would consider you a very valuable asset, and before you bore me with the old adage that you can look after yourself, as far as I am concerned, until those eyes of yours have completely healed and you have a visual range of more than two feet, I consider you as helpless as a newborn babe."  And I'm afraid I meant it to sting.  

"Have you any idea of the anguish you have put Quatre & Trowa through this morning?  A guest goes missing from under their very roof, how do you think they felt about that?  Is this the way you repay their hospitality?  Not to mention the time and effort that everyone took in searching for you, the domestic staff, Quatre, Trowa, Jarvis, even the police, as if they haven't got enough to do.  And all of this because you felt like going for a jog.  With not a thought for anyone else or for the consequences of your selfish actions, you just haul off and do exactly as you please.  Well Wufei, I really hope you enjoyed that jog, because I would hate to think that you put everyone through all of that for nothing."  I paused and looked at him.  He stared at me slack jawed and wide-eyed, gaped like a fish a few times, but said nothing.  I continued.  "I think you owe everyone in this house an apology for the all the trouble you caused them today, especially Quatre & Trowa.  Now go upstairs and see Hugo for your medication, it's long overdue."  He rallied and began to say something but I cut him off.  "GO UPSTAIRS!"  I said sternly, raising my voice for the first time.  

I opened the door and stood beside it with my arms folded across my chest.  He scuttled past me out of the room, eyes downcast.  Suddenly though, as he passed he looked up at me, obsidian eyes doleful and tragic.

"Treize please...," He said, but I pointedly turned my head to look in the opposite direction.  He continued out into the hall with quick, purposeful steps, ran up the sweeping staircase and disappeared among the maze of corridors on the first floor.  

Thoroughly perturbed by what had just happened, I went out to the garden and I have been here ever since.  I was unnecessarily cruel and unpleasant to Wufei, but if I could do it over, I would do the same again.  I'm sure a psychoanalyst would have had a field day with me and my little outburst.  I mentioned everyone else's anguish and worry at his absence but never once did I mention myself, and let's face it, that's who I was really talking about.  I never mentioned myself, but it was my anguish I was really referring to, my worry and my torment.  I transferred all of my own emotions to everyone else concerned.  I don't know why I did this, but I'm sure an analyst could tell you.  When I think of all of the things that could have happened to him this morning I feel sick to my stomach, although the fact that it is almost lunch time and I have not yet had a morsel to eat might have something to do with this.

I lower myself onto a wrought iron bench and make up my mind to stay ten minutes more before going back to the house to check on Fei.  It is still early in the year and the air is chilly.  I came out in my shirtsleeves since, having sent Fei upstairs to our room 'in disgrace', I considered it impolitic to go up there to fetch a jacket or coat or something.  So after ten more freezing, joyless minutes on the bench, I return to the house, shivering and even more out of sorts that when I went out there.  I am not one who bears discomfort easily or graciously.

Firstly, I go in search of Quatre and Trowa and I find them in the library, snuggled sweetly together in that large, gold, leopard skin chair that they seem to favour so much.  There is a book on the side table, open and resting on its leaves, but if they ever were reading it they certainly are not now, their attention clearly centred on each other.  They look so contented and happy, and so completely in love that the sight of them draws an indulgent smile from me, in spite of my mood.  They tell me that they have been in to see Wufei, that they elicited the whole story from him, and that he is very sorry about the entire incident and extremely upset that I am so angry with him.  Before taking my leave I begin to apologise to them for the trouble they have been put to but they wave away my apology and implore me not to give the matter a second thought, assuring me that Wufei's turning up fit and well (relatively speaking anyway) was worth twice the inconvenience, and I am reminded again why I love them both so much.

I then hasten on to mine and Wufei's room, because I feel that poor Fei has been made to suffer enough and I am anxious to make sure that he is well.  As soon as I open the door I am dismayed to see that the curtains have been drawn.  This usually heralds a migraine attack.  I look across at the bed and see the slight figure lying beneath the coverlet, with its back to me.  I walk around the bed and kneel before him.  His eyes are closed but I don't think he is asleep.  

"Fei?"  I say and I smooth his hair back from his brow.  He opens his eyes and the look of barely suppressed pleasure and eager hope in his eyes brings tears pricking at my mine.  I know what will give him the most comfort at this moment, so I toe off my shoes, peel back the bedspread and slide in beside him.  He is instantly in my arms, entwining his limbs with mine and burying his head in my chest.

"I'm so sorry Treize."  He says sincerely.

"Don't worry about it my pet, just tell me what happened."  I implore him gently.  He proceeds to tell me how he woke early this morning feeling particularly bright and breezy, after his misfortune the day before.  He lay awake for a while hoping I would wake also but when I failed to do so and loath to wake me himself, he decided to go down to the gym to pass the time and to limber up a little.  On the way there it suddenly dawned on him how much he would prefer a jog out in the fresh pre-dawn air, rather than on a treadmill in the artificially air-conditioned gym.  Acting on this impulse, he simply walked out of the front door as he was, taking nothing with him and leaving no message.  He contritely confessed that he did suffer a dizzy spell while he was out jogging, and he actually passed out.  He was discovered and assisted by a man who was out walking his dog.  The man took Wufei to his home until he came to, however, Fei was a little disorientated when he finally came round, and was not immediately able to give the man his address.  When he was finally able to do this, several hours had elapsed and when the man drove Fei back to the Barton-Winner mansion, they found the place swarming with police.  In the ensuing confusion the man slipped away, and Fei has no idea who he was.

"I know it was a really stupid thing to do, and I'm really, really sorry."  He says.  I pause for a long moment before I speak.

"I thought I would never see you again Fei."  I say, my voice choked with emotion, "I just kept imagining you lying somewhere, beaten or tortured, or perhaps even worse, calling out for me, and me not able to help you.  I imagined such horrible things Fei, such horrible things."  By this time tears are streaming down my cheeks and my breath comes in ragged, hitching sobs.  I weep openly, as I clasp him to me and murmur sweet, nonsensical endearments to him through my tears.  This has been a day filled with emotions of one sort or another for me, which have finally come to a head and as I weep, albeit belatedly, with relief at having my Fei restored to me whatever the circumstances, I silently vow that, as much as I loved, cherished and protected him before, I shall do so all the more in future because having been faced with the reality of having to do so, however briefly, I am convinced that I could never live without him.

[1], [2] –From 'Jabberwocky' by Lewis Carroll


	16. Languedoc Noir

Languedoc Noir

By

Diane Louis

"Would you like to see the desert menu?" The waiter asked crisply, clearly addressing this particular question to her, even though every other question he had previously asked had quite pointedly been put to Wufei.

Sally glanced across the table toward Wufei, saw the look of hope that crossed his features and smiled. She knew he would not order a desert if she did not, but she also knew that, though he would die before admitting it, he had an extremely sweet tooth and took every opportunity of indulging it.

"Yes please." She said and took the proffered menu.

Wufei also took a menu, but he immediately laid it aside and sat looking expectantly across at her. She sighed resignedly and proceeded to read to him from the list of delights on offer, just as she had done earlier, when they had ordered their appetisers and main courses and just as he had then, he laughed heartily throughout. While his vision was still severely impaired following his corneal transplant surgery, he could see perfectly well enough to read the menu, however, the mirth he derived from her atrocious pronunciation of the complicated French dishes on the menu was too priceless an opportunity for him to pass up. Having placed their order ('tourte aux pommes avec crème Chantilly' for her, 'petits rouleaux de noix au chocolat' for him and a glass of Sauternes apiece), she waited patiently for his laughter to subside.

"Oh for goodness sake Wufei," She said with feigned annoyance, after allowing what she deemed a reasonable interval for him to enjoy his little joke at her expense, "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh yes it was." He replied, dabbing at imaginary tears with the corner of his napkin.

"I think you deliberately chose a French restaurant for just this reason." She asserted.

"Correct." He replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Bastard!" She retorted, but there was no malice behind the word.

"You know you love me really." Wufei said affably.

She looked up at him sharply as the words pierced her heart like a barb. His exotically beautiful face smiled benignly at her from across the table, and she knew that he had spoken the words without guile, with no real idea of their aptness or veracity. As he looked at her she saw his brows draw together in a slight frown, and rather than give herself away, she babbled the first nonsense that came to her head.

"I can't believe you can actually speak that language fluently." She said in a prattling manner that utterly disgusted her. 'Of course he can you fool' she chided herself mentally, 'he's lived there long enough'.

"What, French?" Came the obvious reply, "Well I have lived there for some time, so it's only to be expected that I would have picked up a word or two by now. Are you alright?" He added casually, but a frown of concern still clouded his brow.

She was saved from having to provide a response by the arrival of their desert and wine. As the waiter fussily lay what was ultimately a slice of apple tart with whipped cream before her, she surreptitiously looked down at her hands. As Wufei had unwittingly uttered his throw-away comment, she had involuntarily clenched her fists so tightly that her nails, freshly shaped and manicured that very morning, had pierced the flesh of her palms and she now bore four bloody crescents on each hand.

"This is probably the most expensive apple pie I shall ever eat." She said with a light laugh, merely for want of something to say that would lift the atmosphere she could feel descending. There were no prices displayed on either the menu or the wine list, and this fact alone convinced her of the veracity of this statement, if the décor and ambience of the restaurant and the demeanour and attentiveness of the waiting staff had failed to do so.

"Probably." He agreed, but without any noticeable concern. "It's quite a nice restaurant though, don't you think? Treize likes to come here." He continued, without waiting for an answer to his previous question.

She groaned inwardly. They were now coming to the part of these meetings that she found difficult to bear. Her meetings with Wufei were few and far between, basically only coming around whenever Wufei flew over from France for some reason or other, and sometimes not even then. She relished every minute they spent together and hung on every syllable he uttered..., until he began to speak about his husband. Although she was sure she gave no sign, she deplored having to listen while Wufei innocently recounted various anecdotes of their life together, little knowing how each word was like a sabre-thrust to the heart to her. The gist of his stories was always that he was perfectly contented with his life and happily married to his husband. Though he complained of Treize's fussiness and over-protectiveness towards him, she knew that deep down he loved every minute of it and wouldn't have it any other way. It made him feel special, made him feel... loved. She hated the duplicity, but what else could she do? How else was she to feel when the man she loved held forth at length about how much he loved another?

"...fitting for his outfit for the wedding." Wufei was saying. "He said he would grab a quick bite at the club before our next appointment." She had been listening with only half an ear and was vaguely aware that he had been saying something about what Treize was doing while they were lunching together.

"It's a pity he couldn't join us." She said suddenly, with a sincerity that surprised her. It obviously surprised Wufei too.

"Really?" He said with eyebrows raised in wonder, "I always assumed that you would rather he wasn't with me whenever we arrange to meet, that's why I always come alone. Somehow I always got the feeling that you didn't really like him."

"Of course not!" She retorted with just enough righteous indignation to give some credence to her words. They were given greater asperity by the realisation that she had not hid herself as well as she thought she had. "Anyway, I hardly know him so how can I not like him." She added, this time on surer ground since at least part of this statement was actually true.

"I know, I'm sorry." He said contritely, "It's just..., I don't know, I just thought..."

"It's alright." She said, hastening to forestall his superfluous apology since he was perfectly correct in his assumption. "Anyway, I've gotten to know him a little since your operation, and he seems very nice."

This was perfectly true. Since their initial meeting (at Treize's instigation) to discuss Wufei's operation, they had met several times. She had helped him to secure a suitable nurse to aid Wufei during his post-operative recovery and she had also run into him a few times when she had gone to Wufei's hospital room to pay him a quick visit. On each of these occasions Wufei had been either anesthetised or asleep, so she had had no option but to exchange a few words with Trieze. She had to admit that each time they had spoken she had come away with an impression of him that grew more and more favourable with each meeting and she had quickly come to realise that he was exactly what Wufei had always insisted he was – just a very caring, very considerate, very nice man. So much so in fact, that the worst that she could now say of him was that he had bagged the man that she wanted, and she could hardly hold that against him... could she?

For many years she had convinced herself that she despised Treize for no other reason than this and she had steadfastly avoided any situation that might give an indication to the contrary, regardless of anything Wufei could say to her about him. Now all her cunning had come to naught, and circumstances had conspired to throw them together so that she could no longer bury her head in the sand as regarded his true nature. She now saw that not only did he in no way deserve her contempt, he actually elicited a great deal of admiration and respect from her, albeit grudgingly bestowed. She now found it extremely difficult to maintain her position regarding him, even though her feelings for Wufei remained as inexorable as they were unrequited.

"He told me." Wufei said ambiguously, then explaining himself he added, "He told me that you had come to see me. He didn't tell me that you and he had spoken though."

"I expect he didn't think it was that important. Is your desert not good?" She asked, nodding towards his almost untouched sweetmeat.

"Yes, it's fine." He said, and as if to prove this fact, he speared a 'petit rouleau' with a desert fork and popped it into his mouth. They attended to their deserts for a minute or two, then Wufei spoke again. "I could ask him to come and join us if you like. His fitting should be over by now and the shop is not that far away."

"That would be very nice." She heard herself say, and before she knew what was happening, while beaming broadly at her Wufei had retrieved a cellphone from somewhere about his person and was already dialling a number. She listened apprehensively to his half of the conversation, smiling surreptitiously behind a hand when almost the first thing Wufei did was to snap angrily at Treize.

"Hi..., yes of course everything's alright, why must you always think that something is wrong every time I phone you? Where are you? Will you be long? Good. Why don't you come and join us? We're having desert so come as soon as you can. Shall I order you something? Okay, see you soon... bye." He cut the call and dropped the phone carelessly on the table beside his plate. "He's just finishing so he'll be here soon. I'm so glad; it will be nice for us to all be together for once."

He smiled broadly at her once again and she suddenly felt a pang of remorse for her selfish behaviour over the years. Wufei had so wanted her to know the Treize that he knew, to become as much a friend to Treize as she was to him, but she had wanted no part of it. She was now beginning to get a taste of what she had missed and the regrets were stacking up, not least because of how happy their burgeoning acquaintanceship seemed to make Wufei.

She pasted on a smile for his benefit while she steeled herself for the forthcoming ordeal. She had never actually seen them together; at least she had been spared that. She had seen them photographed together many times in the society columns of various news papers and magazines, and had sometimes seen them on the television, arm in arm, treading red carpets as they made their stately entrance to high society functions, but these were always formal occasions where Treize looked glacial and aloof and Wufei looked either bored, irritated, or a mixture of both. She had never actually seen them interacting together as a couple. Well this was about to change and she was surprised to find that she didn't mind half as much as she thought she would, as she might have done had this happened say, a month or so ago. In fact, she was forced to admit to a mild curiosity and found herself quite looking forward to Treize's arrival.

"How about you, do you have a dress to wear yet?" He asked her.

"I have part of my outfit," She said guardedly, "I just have to find the rest."

She was being deliberately reticent because she did not know how much he knew, but the part of the outfit she was referring to had come courtesy of Treize himself and was yet one further reason why she found herself forced into re-evaluating her opinion of him. It had been delivered to her home address by special messenger and had arrived one Sunday morning a fortnight or so ago, while she was lounging around the house in an oversized t-shirt and precious little else. After having assured herself that the messenger had not made a mistake, she signed for the package and opened it hesitatly. She vaguely recognised the name of the exclusive jewellers on the velvet covered box inside, but thought nothing of it, fully expecting that this was someone at the hospital's idea of a joke and that a toad (or worse) would leap from the box when opened. However, when she _did_ open the box she soon realised that this was no joke.

Nestling inside was the most beautiful diamond necklace she had ever seen (not that she had seen all that many), complete with matching earrings. She knew very little about fine jewellery, but she needed no expertise to tell her that what she held in her hands were 100% genuine and extremely valuable. The diamonds (she knew that the large, white stones were diamonds because she was almost dazzled by their brilliance) were set in a pale-coloured metal, either white gold or platinum, she could not tell which. The necklace had a large teardrop pendant, which was at least three quarters of an inch wide and at least an inch long and it made her breathless to think of the value of this stone alone. There were a great many others besides, albeit smaller in size. She was by this time convinced that this was most definitely a mistake. With her heart pounding in her breast she retrieved the card that had fluttered to the floor as she had unwrapped the package and read it. She could still recall every word:

_Dearest Sally,_

_I hope you are well. I hope you will forgive the liberty, but this is just a small token of my gratitude for all the kindness you have shown to Wufei throughout his illness. I hope that you will approve of my selection but if not, the store has instructions to exchange it for anything you prefer. I will phone you later to check that the package arrived safely and to give you some information that you may find useful. _

It was signed simply _'Treize'_ in the same flowing cursive script that the rest of the message was written in. He had indeed phoned her, around ten minutes later. She had thanked him fulsomely, but had stated that she could not possibly accept such a gift. 'Nonsense, of course you can' had been his blunt reply, and that had been the end of that particular discussion. He had gone on to say that while the set was quite valuable, she need not worry about the responsibility of owning such items. The jewels were fully insured, and provision had been made for her to deposit them with his bankers for safe keeping. He also informed her quite plainly that if she ever needed to 'realise the asset' as he had so delicately put it, she need feel no qualms about doing so and he even gave her the name and address of someone whom she could trust to undertake this for her. It was when he said this that she had finally guessed his purpose, or at least part of his purpose in giving her such a gift. He was too much of a gentleman to offer her money directly, but this way he had ensured her financial security for the future as well as giving her something that most women could only dream of. While Treize had forborne to mention the actual value of the jewels, she was certain that if she sold them tomorrow, she could live out her days in splendour on the proceeds and never have to work again. What with one source of income and another she was actually quite comfortably off financially, but a little extra security certainly couldn't hurt.

It was fully two weeks later and she still sometimes thought that she had dreamt the whole incident. The jewels were now safely on deposit with Treize's bankers, and now only the card (and a safety deposit box number) remained to attest to the fact that, yes, she was the owner of diamonds... real diamonds! She had intended to wear them to the 'Wedding' as Wufei had taken to calling it despite the fact that Treize and he were already married, but now she needed a gown worthy of them (black satin – her heart was set). It was to be quite a grand affair, and it was the only opportunity she could ever hope to have of wearing them (unless she splashed out on the outrageously high cost of a ticket to the next Winner Foundation Dinner & Dance.)

"And do you have a date?" Wufei asked with a wry grin.

"Oh, not that old chestnut again!" She sighed, passing her hands wearily across her eyes then on to push her thick, honey-blonde hair back from her brow.

"Yes, that old chestnut again." He reached out across the table and caught her hands in his. "I just can't understand why a beautiful and intelligent young woman like you doesn't have anyone." Their waiter stood a few paces away, looking on at what to all intents and purposes appeared be a pair of young lovers, with an indulgent smile. Wufei looked up, caught his eye and summoned him with a curt nod.

"Yes Sir?"

"Could you bring another chair please, my husband will be joining us shortly." He said this while gazing warmly into Sally's blue eyes, and even as he closed the statement he raised her hands to his lips and planted a kiss lightly on her knuckles. The waiter looked down at their conjoined hands, focussing on Wufei's wedding ring, then turned away to do as he was bid, wearing a look that distinctly said 'I don't want to know'.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might not want anyone?" Sally resumed their previous conversation.

"Rubbish!" Wufei said flatly, "Everyone wants someone."

'Yes, and I want someone I can't have' she thought, but all she said was, "Well I do have a date actually."

"Great!" Wufei said animatedly, "Who is it - tell me it isn't Warren?" He added guardedly.

"Yes, it's Warren." She said, almost triumphantly.

"Oh but Sal..." He began, but then countered, "Well I suppose he'll have to do. He's nowhere near good enough for you but still..." Wufei raised her hands to his lips again as the waiter returned with another velvet upholstered ormolu chair. He shook his head as he walked away, having taken an order for coffee and 'petits fours' for three. "I just want you to be happy Sal," Wufei said earnestly, "As happy as I am. I want everyone to be as happy as I am, and anyway," He dropped his voice conspiratorially and leaned across the table towards her, "You don't look at the mantelpiece when you're poking the fire."

"Chang Wufei that's an outrageous thing to say!" Sally cried as she reached out and slapped Wufei playfully across the upper arm. She had leaned forward to catch his words, emulating Wufei's conspiratorial manner and now she sprang back in her chair as they both dissolved into helpless, childish giggles.

"I sincerely hope that that was not the one about the clergyman and the chorus girl," Came a rich, melodious voice from somewhere on Sally's left, "That particular story is not fit for the ears of a lady."

Sally's laughter stopped as abruptly as if a switch had been thrown. She turned sharply to her left and saw the tall, statuesque figure of Treize Kushrenada standing beside her. He was expensively dressed in a dark suit of a lightweight fabric, exquisitely cut and perfectly tailored as usual, with a rather garishly patterned shirt which was obviously designed for a man half his age, but a man, she thought, who would be hard pressed to look half as good in it. The shirt was open at the neck and his jacket was unfastened. This, she had come to realise, was a trick he seemed to use that made a relatively smart outfit look quite casual. His belt and shoes were correspondingly dark, and both as spotless as ever. As far as she had hitherto observed, he never seemed to make any bold fashion statements even though he could quite easily afford to do so. This man knew what suited him and he stuck to it. No one could ever accuse Treize Kushrenada of being mutton dressed as lamb. His grooming was once again as impeccable as ever, and the now familiar scent of his cologne assailed her nostrils. His piercing blue eyes bored through her as they always did, but there was nothing but warmth in the gaze.

"Sally, so good to see you again." He said as he held out a hand to her, drew her firmly towards him and kissed her warmly on both cheeks. This had become the customary greeting between them, but she still could not quell the small leap that her heart made each time. It was not a perfunctory gesture and his languid grace gave his movements an easy pace which manifested his sincerity.

To a casual observer, it may have seemed as though he had completely ignored Wufei during this far from brief exchange, but Sally could see that this was definitely not the case. He had extended only one hand to her this time, and her keen powers of observation had not missed the other, which rested gently and fondly between Wufei's shoulder blades. The table was small, sized only for two and it was a simple feat for a man of his stature and 'reach' to perform. She smiled inwardly at this. Perfect gentleman that he was, his sense of etiquette demanded that he give his attention to the lady first, however, he simply could not ignore his adored one for a single moment. She doubted whether he were even aware of what he had just done. He held her hand supportively as she resumed her seat, then he turned to Wufei.

"Fei my pet," He said gently, almost apologetically, "Are you alright?" Obviously a rhetorical question since he immediately leaned towards Wufei and their lips met in a brief but tender kiss, forestalling any reply on his husband's part. This was as far as their greeting went however. Apparently mindful of the fact that their party was a threesome, he turned away from Wufei and angled his body so that his subsequent speech was directed at both his fellows.

"I was the dickens of a time, I'm sorry." He said. "I just had to run into the store to get this." He bent to retrieve something from the floor and for the first time Sally noticed a profusion of gaily coloured shopping bags at his feet. He picked out a small one and placed it on the table beside her coffee cup, the waiter having brought their order some moments previously.

"Oh Treize," She exclaimed in pleased surprise, "Thank-you so much, but you really shouldn't have."

"Nonsense, I practically didn't," He replied dismissively, "It's nothing really."

'Hmmm,' she thought, 'The same kind of 'nothing' as the 'small token' he gave her a few weeks ago. She had recognised the name of the exclusive perfumier on the shopping bag. "Thank-you anyway." She said, and in a bold, impulsive movement, she rose quickly from her seat, leaned towards him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. While she sat smiling serenely at him, her mind recited 'I can't believe I just did that, I can't _believe_ I just did that' over and over again, like a mantra. He gave her a winning smile and a thought suddenly came to her, 'He is so attractive, so why doesn't he attract me, why is it Wufei, always Wufei?'

"He always does this." Wufei's voice came from across the table. "He goes out shopping and buys presents for everyone and nothing for himself. No, actually, scratch that. He buys lots of things for himself _and_ presents for everyone."

"And lots of things for you my pet, don't forget that." Treize said.

"Never." Wufei replied gently, smiling up at Treize. He squeezed the older man's hand lightly as it lay on the table. "And talking of presents," He added, "Did you like your jewellery?"

Sally looked at him with brows arched in surprise. So Wufei had known all along. She could see not reason for Treize to have kept it from him, but she had been equally sure that if he had known he would have said something about it before this. However, as she looked at him she read nothing in his eyes, he only waited expectantly for her reply.

"Y...yes thank-you, it was beautiful." She replied hesitantly. She was still confused, not knowing how much to say.

"Good." Wuifei gave a nod of satisfaction. "I forgot all about it until this talk of presents came up." He continued in a light, conversational tone. "Treize told me that he was going to buy you a little something to say thank-you for helping me. I told him that yes, it would be nice and he went out shopping... again." He added, rolling his eyes heavenward in a long-suffering but good humoured manner. "When he came back I asked him what he had bought and he told me he'd bought you some jewellery. 'Nice', I thought, 'Sal will like that'. So what did you get, a string of pearls? No, don't tell me. Wear it to the wedding and I'll see it then."

She understood then. Wufei had absolutely no idea of the nature or the magnitude of Treize's gift. Well if Treize did not see fit to apprise him then she certainly would not, but the secret would be out within a few short weeks. The date of the wedding was drawing nearer. She stole a glace at Treize and the knowing smirk he gave her assured her that he was fully aware of this and it was all part of his subtle plan.

"Well, lovely though this is, I think we had better get on," Wufei said as the waiter brought their bill, placing it pointedly in front of Treize, "Those wedding rings are not going to design themselves." He added, referring to his and Treize's next appointment. He popped the last of the 'petits fours' into his mouth (which is exactly where most of the others had ended up) as he murmured,"If no one else wants this..."

Sally reached for her handbag but Treize smiled indulgently across at her.

"You will be our guest of course." He said as he opened the leatherette folder that contained the bill and signed the slip of paper within with the bold flourish that she recalled from the card she kept so preciously back at home. He closed the folder, and her brow creased as she realised that he had tendered neither cash nor credit card. He had merely signed his name on the bill. She looked up at Wufei in confusion, and he mouthed the word 'account' to her. She recalled his saying that Treize liked to come to the restaurant and all became clear.

'How the other half live.' She thought with bewilderment, and then a more serious thought crossed her mind. She battled with her conscience for a moment and then made a decision. "Wait, now I have you both together I have something to tell you." She began. Having risen preparatory to leaving, both Wufei and Treize sank back into their seats, and having caught their apprehensive attention she continued. "I'm afraid that this is at the risk of ruining your day, but whether I tell you now or at another time will not make it any easier for you to hear. As you know, Steven Scrivener is far from happy about these headaches and blackouts you have been experiencing Wufei, since they seem to be completely unconnected with your recovery from the surgery and to be perfectly honest, neither am I. We have discussed the situation at great length and have decided that the best thing would be for you to undergo a CT scan." She saw the look of shocked dismay on both their faces and it occurred to her how much she hated her job sometimes. She saw Wufei grope wildly for Treize's hand even as Treize did the same, both pairs of eyes trained on her face. Their hands met and clasped desperately. "Please don't worry about this," She implored them, "It's only a precautionary measure as we attempt to diagnose what might be behind it all. It may be absolutely nothing and the scan will tell us that."

"Doesn't it mean that you think there's something wrong with my brain?" Wufei asked, his voice tremulous.

"I won't lie to you Wufei," She replied gravely, "If there is something wrong with your brain, yes, the scan will tell us that, but that is not why it is being done. In fact, we have absolutely no reason to believe that there _is_ anything wrong with your brain, but we have to be thorough and in cases of unexplained headaches and blackouts such as you have been experiencing, we would be failing in our duty as physicians if we didn't perform a CT scan on you with the minimum of delay."

"We understand Sally." Treize said. "When?"

"Three days time. That is the earliest appointment we could make for you. We felt that it was important that we get the scan over and done with as soon as possible so that you can carry on with your preparations and get married without it hanging over your heads."

"Thank-you, we appreciate that." Treize rose from his chair, dropped to his knees beside Wufei and enveloped his husband in strong, comforting arms. "Let me take you home my sweet." He murmured gently as he stroked Wufei's raven locks, "I'll phone Jarvis and ask him to cancel the appointment at the ring designers."

"No!" Came a cry muffled by the fabric of Treize's jacket. Wufei raised his head and eased himself free of Treize's embrace. "I have a brilliant idea for the design, and I'll forget it if we don't go now." He said. "I won't have to stay in the hospital will I?" He asked, looking round at Sally. She breathed a discreet sigh of relief as she replied.

"No, not at all. The whole process takes a few hours and can be performed on an outpatient basis."

"Good. Now it's been wonderful Sal, but we have to go now or we'll be late." Wufei rose and collected some of Treize's packages before he led them all to the door.

A smart black Rolls Royce tourer was parked at the kerb directly outside the restaurant, in complete contravention of any imposed parking restrictions, and a liveried chauffer stood beside it, equally as smart. As they emerged from the restaurant the chauffeur stepped forward and relieved Treize and Wufei of their packages, deftly managing to open the passenger door for them at the same time.

"Pardon me your Excellency." The chauffeur said in a crisp British accent.

"Yes Hansen?" Treize replied

"May we not take the lady anywhere?" Treize looked enquiringly at her but she shook her head emphatically.

"Oh no, thank-you, you guys go ahead. I'm parked right around the corner."

They said their goodbyes and she waved them off to their appointment. As she watched the car disappear into the early afternoon traffic, she wished she could feel more sanguine about Wufei's forthcoming CT scan. He seemed so excited about the wedding and so happy after his recent health worries that she hated the thought of any potential blight.

"Poor Fei," She murmured to herself, "You may be happy now, but for how long?"


	17. Florian Amber

Florian Amber

By

DRL

"Are you sure this is necessary Duo?" I ask as I follow him along the upper gallery of his and Heero's loft-style apartment to the room that is to be mine for the night.

"It's tradition." He replies briefly.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question." I mutter _sotto voce_ as I glance nervously over the worryingly insubstantial railing. This railing, which consists of gossamer-fine steel cables stretched taut between steel uprights, is the only thing that stands between me and a plummet to the living area beneath. I shudder and move a little closer to the wall. Duo has evidently heard my murmured undertone because he turns and beams broadly at me over his shoulder as he proceeds. He halts and opens a door, leading me into a spacious chamber at the end of the gallery, which I recognise as one that Wufei and I had occupied once before on a previous visit. Wufei..., I wonder what he is doing at this moment and I mentally curse Duo and his traditions.

"Here we are," Duo says as he heaves my overnight bag onto the bed, "Home sweet home, for one night only".

Heero, who brought up the rear of our little procession and who has possession of the garment bag that contains my wedding suit, enters the room after me. He slides aside a mirrored section of the wall to reveal a large walk-in wardrobe. He walks in, deposits the garment bag and walks out again, slides the door to and leans against it, arms folded, looking expectantly at Duo.

"We'll be downstairs," Duo said brightly, "You freshen up or whatever, and then come down and join us 'kay?"

I nod my agreement and they take their leave.

Once I am alone I sink down onto a corner of the bed and sigh heavily. A week or so ago Duo had suggested that Wufei and I spend the days prior to our wedding vow renewal ceremony apart. He insisted that this was an age-old wedding tradition. I recall that he did the same when Quatre and Trowa married, with disastrous results. Quatre spent the most miserable and Trowa the most nerve-wracked days of their lives. However, undeterred, he had insisted upon the same for Wufei and myself. I had at first told him that it was out of the question. Fei was not in the best of health at present and I was not going to entertain leaving him for two minutes let alone two days. But then Wufei had said that he wanted a 'proper' wedding and he said that if this was a wedding tradition, then we would honour it. So with the proviso that the two days were reduced to one, I reluctantly acquiesced. It was agreed that Fei would remain at the Barton-Winner mansion, where Hugo was already installed and could tend to him, and I would stay with Heero and Duo for the night.

All the same, I hate to leave him when he's still so poorly, even though he does have Hugo to look after him. He may look okay, and he certainly attempts to act as if he is as fit as a fiddle, but he cannot fool me. He is recovering relatively well from his corneal transplants, but he still has those inexplicable symptoms, headaches, nausea, vomiting, blackouts, disorientation, which clearly have nothing to do with his operation. Granted, he underwent the C.T. scan as Steven Scrivener and Sally Po suggested, but the results were hardly reassuring. 'Inconclusive', whatever that means. Well I know one or two things that it _does_ mean. It means that rather than Fei going through this wedding ceremony safe in the knowledge that he has been given a clean bill of health and all he has to do is sit back and regain his sight, he has to go through it with this uncertainty hanging over him like the sword of Damocles and he has to cut short his 'honeymoon' so that he can return in time to keep an appointment to go through the whole harrowing experience once again. It is enough to wrack anyone's nerves.

Fei is being marvellous about it though. I know that it is worrying him greatly, but he tries so hard not to show it. Thankfully he has had the wedding to help take his mind off it, but the strain is beginning to show. Oh don't get me wrong, to all outward appearances he is as happy as a sand boy, and I'm sure that this is broadly true, but I know Wufei very well, and his can be a brooding and reticent nature and he tends to bottle things up quite a lot. It can also be a depressive one, and it is this that worries me. I have detected no signs so far, but I am keeping a weather-eye open. He is a little more 'clingy' than usual at the moment, but I see nothing in this. He gets that way from time to time for no apparent reason. It's just another 'Wufei' paradox. He is fiercely independent one moment, not wanting me anywhere near him, then he's all over me like a rash the next. Anyway, I hope he's okay. I could call him now but to do so would be to risk his wrath since we only parted just over an hour ago. We agreed to speak before we go to sleep tonight, so I suppose I'll find out then although, as always, Hugo has instructions to contact me if anything serious happens, so I may well find out sooner.

I suddenly realise that I have been sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about Wufei for at least twenty minutes. I rise, unzip my overnight bag, exchange my sweater for a t-shirt to provide some evidence of why I had been up here for so long, then I leave the room. I descend the open-treaded staircase at the end of the gallery to the floor below. The whole of the lower floor living area is open to view from the staircase and I can see at a glance that Heero and Duo are nowhere in evidence, so I proceed to the kitchen, where I hit 'pay dirt'. This is also open to view (everything is 'open' in this confounded place) and as I approach I can quite clearly see them, Duo perched on the edge of the central island, Heero standing between Duo's parted thighs, with Duo's feet crossed at the ankles below Heero's buttocks, holding him captive. Their arms are about each other and their lips are locked in a kiss. I am glad that they have been keeping themselves busy while waiting for me. Although they can hear my approach, they maintain their position, paying no attention to me whatsoever. I am unperturbed by this amorous display, of course. It is a common sight in any situation featuring Heero and Duo together as a couple. They are very passionate, physical and openly demonstrative in their attraction for each other.

"Gentlemen..." I greet them, throwing a casual glance in their direction as I pass by on my way to the wine rack. As I do so I catch a clear sight of their tongues duelling languidly. One of them, Duo I think, lets out a lustful sigh and he enmeshes his fingers in Heero's hair. For his part Heero slips a hand beneath the hem of Duo's t-shirt and begins caressing the small of his back. I turn my attention back to the wine rack.

There are several passable bottles and one or two excellent vintages, but nothing really takes my fancy, so I move to the fridge. My keen eye immediately alights on the telltale foil of bottle of champagne. Yes, that will do nicely. I remove the bottle and inspect the label. 'Bollinger '95' I read with delight – an exceptional year. I remove the foil and cage, and as I begin to remove the cork I hear the clink of glasses behind me.

"We were discussing what to have for dinner." Duo says as he stands at my elbow, placing three crystal flutes on the counter before me.

"So I saw," I say as I 'pop the cork', "Although it looked to me as though you had decided upon each other." I pour the champagne. The glasses, I notice, are extremely fine. I recognise them as part of a set that Wufei and I had given to Heero and Duo as an anniversary gift at least six years ago, and I am unusually pleased to see that they are still in use.

"So, what's the plan for tonight Treize?" Duo says enthusiastically, as I hand him a brimming glassful of the sparkling wine.

"Dinner, then bed." Heero replies flatly and there is a distinctly warning undertone to his voice. I smile discreetly – the entertainment has begun.

"Aw c'mon Heero," Duo says, "It is the guy's stag night after all, he's gotta go out and get drunk, it's tradition." He takes a deep draught from his glass as if to illustrate the point.

"Duo, Wufei will never forgive us if we deliver Treize to the altar red-eyed, slack-jawed and hung over."

"But..."

"No Duo."

"Geez Heero," Duo says with disgust, "You're no fun at all. It's like being married to a kipper."

"Duo," Comes Heero's confused reply, "That makes no sense at all. What does not being any fun have to do with a piece of smoked fish...?"

I turn away, laughing to myself, and I set about inspecting the contents of the pantry and the refrigerator. The pair of them are an absolute delight. Their constant but good-natured bickering has me in stitches more often than not. I do so enjoy spending time with them. I have yet to meet two people who can argue about something and absolutely nothing in the way that these two can. They seem to disagree about absolutely everything, yet they are as devoted a couple as one could ever meet. As I said, their fights are usually good-natured, but once or twice they have been rather more serious.

I recall that there was a time, not so long ago when the two of them split up for a few months because of something Heero did that upset Duo greatly. Duo came to stay with Fei and I at our place in France, and I have to say that that was a terrible time for him. The broken, dejected creature that Fei and I had to take care of was hardly recognisable as the bright, bubbly, bouncing person I see before me (well he is actually behind me at the moment, but you get the gist). I am accustomed to taking a brisk stroll through the messuages of our estate on a daily basis when at home, and Fei often accompanies me. He was working to finish a manuscript at the time that Duo was with us, so Duo and I used to walk the grounds alone, just the two of us. He would talk to me then, quite frankly and explicitly about his relationship with Heero. I realised then the depth of Duo's feelings and why it was that the split with Heero, which at the end of the day was over something relatively small in the scheme of things, affected him so severely. The poor thing was so distraught that he would more often than not end up sobbing in my arms. As I said, it was a terrible time for him, but he did recover a little while he was with us, and he managed to regain a little of his sparkle by the time we brought him back.

It was this more than anything else that taught me that in a loving relationship, ones lightest word or deed can sometimes have an unexpected effect on ones partner, so with Fei I work very much on the principle that least said, soonest mended. We do lock horns very occasionally though, and although he is extremely wilful, I find that he responds surprisingly well to a firm hand every now and again. Most of the time though, while he rails at me mercilessly, I seldom retaliate. His is a very volatile nature and he flares up with the intensity of a struck match then just as quickly, he boils down with the passivity of a pan-full of spinach. He means nothing and his bark is so very much worse than his bite, the dear little chap.

Heero and Duo's animated little discussion progresses from cured fish through a variety of subjects, including the philosopher Plato for some reason, and eventually fetches up back at food again, by which time I have collected an array of items on the granite counter in front of me. I am suddenly aware of a presence at my elbow. I glance up into a pair of mesmerising violet eyes.

"Whatcha doin' Treize?" Duo enquires, then his eyes widen with anticipation, "Are you gonna cook dinner?" I turn and lean against the counter so that my reply is directed at both of them.

"Well I thought I might, if the two of you don't mind."

"Mind!" Duo exclaims, as though he has never heard such nonsense, "Of course we don't mind. Hey Heero," He turns exuberantly to his husband, "Treize is gonna cook dinner."

"Duo," Heero replies, "I am standing two feet away from him. I think it reasonable to assume that I heard what he said." He says this in the dry, sardonic manner that one comes to expect from Heero, but I flatter myself that I detect an anticipatory gleam in his eye also.

I freely admit to being chuffed by their reaction at the prospect of being subjected to my gastronomic efforts. All modesty aside, I am an extremely good cook, but I seldom get the chance to exercise my culinary expertise. At home in France we have a chef who prepares all the meals and one does not keep a dog, then bark oneself. The same applies at most of our other residences and those of our close friends, including Quatre and Trowa. I keep a small apartment in Paris which Fei and I use whenever we go into the city on shopping or theatre trips. We usually cater for ourselves when we stay there, so it is almost my only opportunity to actually do some hands-on cooking, apart from when I come to Heero and Duos. I have to say that the open-plan architectural style and the minimalist décor of the apartment is not to my taste, but I like staying here because I get to cook.

"Whatcha gonna make?" Duo asks as he peruses the ingredients on the counter.

"Well, I thought _potage purée de poitron_ to start, followed by _clams oreganata_, then baked swordfish stuffed with salmon & spinach mousse with plain boiled rice and _aubergines frites au gratin_ as a vegetable accompaniment, with _soufflé au citron glac_ for dessert. If I have time I'll make some blue-cheese bread, but we'll have to see about that. That's the best I can cobble together with what you have in the house, but if you would prefer something more exotic we will have to go out to the shops." They both stare at me in open-mouthed incredulity until Heero finally says,

"No it's alright, I think that will be fine."

I retrieve the bottle of champagne from the fridge and recharge each of our glasses, before donning an apron and setting about the task of preparing dinner. It is early afternoon, but the meal will take some time to prepare and cook, so I begin immediately, measuring and preparing the ingredients, from time to time setting either Heero or Duo to work peeling or chopping vegetables, whipping cream and performing such little assistances as they can without getting under my feet. I am actually enjoying myself and for the first time I am glad that I agreed to honour Duos wedding tradition.

We chat about this and that, and the plans for the ceremony tomorrow. Duo goes to refill the glasses, finds the champagne bottle empty and absently reaches into the fridge for another.

"So Quatre & Trowa's image guy is coming over in the morning right?" He says as he opens the bottle and pours another round.

"Yes." I reply. I have reached a point where I can sit down and relax for a little while, so I am seated on a stool at the central island. Heero and Duo are on both on their feet, Heero on the opposite side of the island to me and Duo over by the fridge pouring the drinks. "He will assist the three of us with our wardrobe and grooming, then he will go over to Quatre & Trowas to do the same for the two of them and Wufei."

"I won't need any assistance with either my wardrobe or my grooming." Heero says petulantly.

"Sure you will," Duo says as he deposits a glass in front of me and one beside Heero, "And if you ask him nicely I'm sure he'll wax your legs for you." He keeps hold of the third and sips from it.

I watch him as he moves to stand close beside Heero, leaning against him slightly as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. One arm steals around Heero's waist in a loose hold, the hand resting lightly on his hip. Heero does not look at Duo, touch him or acknowledge the gesture in any other way. In fact, he looks away from him, off into the opposite corner of the room. However, I do not fail to notice the barely perceptible smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth and the slight softening of his gaze. I know exactly how he is feeling and what he is thinking. I think and feel the same whenever Fei and I are paying for goods in a store, and he suddenly turns to me, winds his arms about my neck and kisses me. Or when we are walking together along a street somewhere, and I suddenly feel his little hand steal into mine, holding it as we walk. It's a proprietorial thought that says to the rest of the world 'He's mine, and don't you forget it', and it's a feeling that says silently to the other person, 'I love you with all of my heart, and I always will'.

The meal was a resounding success, and we rounded it off with coffee and liqueurs. What with the two bottles of champagne we drank while I was cooking, the two bottles of Chablis we drank during dinner and the liqueurs afterward, it seemed as though, despite what Heero had said earlier, we _were_ all going to get drunk after all.

After Heero and Duo had left, taking Treize with them (kicking and screaming mentally, if not physically), Quatre, Trowa and I had rather a good time. The two of them entertained me very well. Immediately after the others had gone we repaired to the library, where we spent a hilarious couple of hours browsing through Quatre and Trowa's wedding album and re-living the day as we regaled each other with our reminiscences. Duo said that traditionally the bride and groom had to spend the days prior to their wedding apart, and he insisted that Quatre and Trowa observe the tradition.

"It was awful," Quatre confessed, "I spent most of those two days in tears. I missed you so much my love." He looked adoringly into Trowa's eyes.

They were snuggled together in that lovely leopard-spotted arm chair they have in the library, just like the one in their bedroom. I always sit in it when I am in the library, but of course in this instance I deferred to my hosts. I stood behind the chair, leaning over the back, this way looking at the album as they were. They offered to move to a larger chair so that we could all sit down, but I refused, stating that I preferred the arrangement as it was. This way I was at least close to the photographs and could see them relatively clearly.

"My poor darling." Said Trowa sympathetically. "I wish I had known. I would have gone straight over there." He kissed Quatre lightly on the temple.

"I know you would my love." Quatre replied and smiled softly as he ran a finger lightly across Trowa's cheek. They then tore their eyes away from each other and looked back to the photograph album resting in their laps.

It was ever thus with Quatre and Trowa, and probably always will be. A more syrupy-sweet and sappy couple I have yet to meet, but I think they are wonderful. They clearly adore one another and they cannot help but show it. They swear that they have never exchanged a cross word. Never one, in how many years together? At least as long as Treize and I have been married. They never even get angry with each other - not ever. I remember that we were all at dinner together one day several years ago, and this same subject came up. Trowa indicated towards Quatre, where he sat looking as angelic and beautifully ethereal as ever, and said, 'Look... look at him, how could I get angry with that? How could I _ever_ raise my voice to that? I would cut out my tongue first'. He was rewarded with a beatific smile from Quatre and a look of utter devotion. I suppose we could all see what he meant though. Quatre kind of has that quality, but don't go thinking that he is a soft touch. Many of his business rivals have made that mistake, and boardrooms around the world are littered with their corpses. Those of us who fought side by side with him also know better.

"Mind you,"Trowa continued, "I was an absolute nervous wreck myself. I was terrified that perhaps you had changed your mind and wouldn't turn up. I wondered whether, with me out of the way, your family might have persuaded you that you would be throwing yourself away if you married me."

"I won't say they didn't try." Quatre replied, "But I just bawled all over them and they soon left me alone." We all laughed at that. "Wufei, are you nervous?" Quatre asked me then.

"A little," I confessed, "But not about Treize. We are already married, and it isn't as though he can 'not turn up' is it? I'm nervous about standing up in front of all those people and saying 'Treize Kushrenada, I love you.' It's what I want to do more than anything else in the world, but I'm still a little nervous about it." Quatre reached up and took my hand, squeezed it gently then brought it to his lips and placed a kiss lightly on my fingers. He said nothing, but the look he gave me said everything that his lips did not. 'Everything will be fine.' I seemed to hear him say quite clearly, although he spoke not at all. Suddenly I was sure that everything would.

"We have booked a table for dinner at 'Les Trois Maisons'." Trowa said later, "We thought it would be nice as it's something of a special occasion, but if you would rather stay in tonight...,"

"'Les Trois Maisons' is a restaurant that Treize always likes to patronise when ever we are over here, and Quatre and Trowa favour it also. Sally and I had lunch there a week or so ago. It's quite the most exclusive place to eat in town.

"Thank-you Trowa, I would love to go." I found myself saying, even though I would have preferred an evening in and an early night.

As it turned out, we had a wonderful time. The food and the service were excellent, but then again, restaurants do not get the reputation that 'Les Trois Maisons' has for no reason. I was very glad that I went. We talked about everything and nothing, and we laughed so much and our table became so rowdy that at one point I swear that we were going to be asked to leave. As we ate I watched Quatre and Trowa, observing something that I have noticed about them many times before. I decided to test a theory.

"Have you ever noticed that when the two of you are together, you are in almost constant physical contact? You are always touching or holding each other in some way." They looked quizzically at each other, and then at me. We were between courses at the time and their hands were clasped as they rested on the table top.

"Really?" Quatre said, "No, I've never really noticed." Trowa shrugged and shook his head. They both looked guilelessly at me.

It was just as I had always suspected. They didn't even know they were doing it. They seemed to reach for each other as if drawn by some type of force, akin to magnetism. I smiled indulgently at them. They were just too sweet for words. Quatre fell asleep during the drive home, a result of the quantities of wine he had drunk during dinner I suspected. He lay stretched out on the back seat of the limousine, his head resting in Trowa's lap. As Trowa lovingly stroked his blond curls he said something to me.

"You know Wufei, after the war I swore I would die before I ever took another life, but when I look at him like this," He was looking down at Quatre as he said this, "I'm convinced that if someone was to harm one single hair on his head, just one, I would kill them, quite easily, without hesitation, without compunction, without mercy and without a shred of remorse. Isn't that awful?"

"No, it's love." I replied. In my opinion it was also obsession, but I didn't tell him that. I didn't want to give him any hang-ups. I have hang-ups enough for both of us.

As Quatre was still asleep when we returned Trowa took him up to their bedroom, and I said goodnight. I didn't want him to feel obliged to entertain me any further, as he would if he knew I was still up, so I told him I was going to bed. I went to bed, I tried to sleep, but the dreams came again. I just cannot understand it. Why should I have such dreams at a time like this? What is wrong with my mind that I should have such horrible dreams when asleep and be so happy while I'm awake? I know why. I know what it is. It's happening. It's been happening for quite some time now, since before the operation. That was when it started, when the dreams started, just before the operation. They did stop for a while afterward, admittedly, but they are back, and with a vengeance. I just don't know what to do. Should I tell someone? Who would I tell, Hugo? If I told him he would carry the news straight to Treize, and he's the last person I want to know. Quatre or Trowa? They wouldn't tell Treize if I asked them not to, but they're asleep. I don't want to disturb them for something like this..., shit, the door, is it opening or is it my befuddled brain completely given up the ghost and...

"Wufei, it's alright, it's only me." Quatre whispers, "Can I come in?"

He comes in anyway. I haul myself up until my back rests against the headboard, cushioned by the myriad of pillows all of the Barton-Winner beds seem to be piled with. He crosses the room towards me, sits down on the edge of the bed beside me and reaches out to switch on the bedside lamp.

"Wufei, what's the matter? Something is very wrong isn't it? Don't say no, because I know it is, I could... feel it. You woke me up." He says with a slightly self-conscious laugh. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. I think I had a little too much to drink."

That laugh again. His voice is like a soothing balm, washing over me and rinsing away all of my troubles. Suddenly it all seems ridiculous and I feel a bit of a fool.

"Why don't you tell me all about it?" He says as he rises and walks round to the other side of the bed.

He peels back the coverlet and slides into bed beside me. He settles himself close to me, puts an arm around my shoulders and draws me to him. I allow my head to fall against his shoulder and relax my body against his.

"There, that's better isn't it?" He says,

I'm sure he is doing something to me, hypnotising me or something, because as he is talking to me I feel all my cares melting away. His voice sounds wonderfully musical and sibilant, and I wonder how come I have never noticed that about it before. It suddenly occurs to me that it would be quite compromising for us if Trowa were to walk into the room and find Quatre in bed with me like this.

"Don't worry," He says, "Trowa knows exactly where I am, and why."

And I swear to god, I didn't say a word, I only thought it. I raise my head and look at him, brow furrowed in alarm and confusion.

"Shhh," He says, "Don't worry about it," He lowers my head to his shoulder again with the slight pressure of his hand. "Just tell me all about what it is that's been bothering you."

And I do. I tell him everything, absolutely everything. I tell him about the state Treize found me in at the Shaolin Temple, I tell him why we married when we did and in the manner that we did, I tell him about my treatment at the Swiss clinic, I tell him how I have long feared and dreaded a recurrence of my malady, and I tell him of how I am convinced that my worst fears are now being realised. Treize called my cellphone while I was talking. I immediately panicked, but Quatre dealt with the situation with remarkable self-possession, spontaneity and aplomb.

"Treize? Hi, it's Quatre..., Wufei's asleep. We went out for dinner and I think he wore himself out, what's that...? No, he didn't have too much to drink. In fact, he didn't have anything to drink at all besides mineral water... Yes I know, Trowa and I made sure of that. He told us that you would call and asked us to apologise to you for him, but he just couldn't stay awake..., yes, I told him you would see it that way... The three of you did what...? Well you'd better sober up by tomorrow... Yes, Wufei's really looking forward to it..., he said to give you his love...yes, I'm sure he knows that. Well we'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget, Nicky and his team will be with you at 9.00 sharp, okay...? Right, well goodnight." Then he rang off.

I fell asleep eventually, but by then I had told Quatre everything there was to tell. He stayed with me throughout the night. I half woke once or twice and I felt his warm body in the bed beside me, and I feel it now. Strangely enough, I had the best night's sleep I have had for a long time, and now I am awake, with the cold light of dawn not far off. I feel quite calm and relaxed, not at all the gibbering wreck I would have been but for Quatre's timely intervention. In a few hours time I will be preparing to renew my marriage vows, and I don't want anything to spoil this day for me, but after that, I can give in to my slow, inexorable descent into madness, because that is what is happening to me. The scan failed to show it this time, but the next one will, I'm sure of it.


	18. Venus Celadon

Venus Celadon

By

DRL

Duo sat on the vanity stool and studied his reflection in the lighted mirror as he mechanically dragged a brush through his hair. Naked but for a pair of boxers, his skin looked sallow and wan in the artificial light and he first grimaced, then shrugged.

"Not bad for 30, I guess." He murmured, then he said a little more loudly, "Heero, do I have crow's feet?"

"What?" Asked Heero, stepping from the bedroom to the doorway of the _en-suite_ dressing room. He was dressed in formal evening wear but for his tuxedo jacket, which he had already removed, and his bow-tie, which was untied and now hung limply from the collar of his shirt. Despite his slight _deshabille_, he still looked elegantly suave. Instead of entering he held on to the frame on each side of the door and leaned into the room.

"Do I have crow's feet?" Duo repeated, still studying himself in the mirror. Heero glanced down at Duo's bare feet, then back up to his face, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"'Crow's. Feet'?" He repeated, punctuating each word as though he might have misheard. "Do you have 'Crow's. Feet'?"

"Yeah, you know, round my eyes." Duo leaned a little closer to the mirror to get a better view and narrowed his eyes into slits as if to concentrate his gaze. Heero now stepped fully into the dressing room and leaned against the door jamb, arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed over the other.

"You know something Duo," He began conversationally, "So little of what you say makes any real sense to me that I sometimes wonder whether it's you that's crazy, or whether it's actually me. Do you have crow's feet around your eyes? What on earth does that mean? Is it some kind of code?" Duo clicked his tongue impatiently and looked up at Heero.

"Crow's feet, you know, little wrinkles..., here." He indicated the corner of one eye.

"Oh," Heero said nodding in final comprehension, "I see crow's _feet_. That's rather good, _'crow's_ feet'..." He then realised that Duo was looking expectantly at him, waiting for an answer. "No, you don't have crow's feet at all." He said quickly.

He pushed away from the door jamb, stepped the pace or so across to where Duo was seated, bent down to his level and kissed him lightly on the temple. Maintaining his position so that their heads were level, his eyes met Duo's in the mirror.

"Quite the contrary, in fact." He added. "You have a fresh, youthful complexion." He smiled when Duo gave a nod of satisfaction, then straightened his back. "What made you think you had crow's feet?" He asked as he picked up the hairbrush from the vanity top where Duo had laid it aside and began to stroke it gently through his husband's chestnut tresses. "Did someone say something to you tonight?" He asked, suddenly serious, the hairbrush halted in mid-sweep.

"No, I was thinking about Treize." Duo replied. "The guy looked great today, I mean really great! Considering how wasted he was last night..."

"Considering how wasted we all were last nigh..." Heero interposed dryly, but not without a mischievous little smirk

"That's true," Duo continued, "But he's what, 38, 39? I wanna look like that when I get to his age."

"Yes, he looked good," Heero conceded, "But so did Wufei. They looked good together..., very good." This last he added in an undertone.

"Those suits they were wearing were just the greatest," Duo enthused. "Only Treize Kushrenada could wear an evening cape and not look a complete idiot. Hey Heero, do you think I would look good in a suit like that?"

"I don't think we could afford a suit like that." Heero replied dryly. "Treize and Wufei undoubtedly did look stunning today though." A corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. "Wufei should be pleased; he got the fairy-tale wedding he always wanted."

"Well he certainly looked happy. Hey Heero?"

"What?" Heero replied warily.

"Would you agree to renew _our_ marriage vows?" Duo asked sweetly.

"Renew them? You're lucky I took them the first time." Heero replied.

"Bastard!" Duo's mouth puckered into an indignant pout. "So you don't love me enough, is that it?"

"Duo, I love you to distraction," Heero replied emphatically, "But I don't need a lavish, expensive ceremony to prove it."

"Yeah?" Duo spat, "And what if I do?"

"Do you?" Heero asked, striving to keep his voice neutral.

"Not really." Duo shrugged dismissively. "Wufei and Treize did though."

"Well they never had a proper wedding ceremony like we did and like Quatre and Trowa did. Well, ours was sort of proper anyway." Heero added in an undertone.

"Why didn't they?" Duo asked. "I would have thought that this sort of thing was right up Treize's street. Anyone who's anyone in high society dressed in their best and all gathered to pay court to him."

"We don't know Duo," Heero replied sternly, "And until they see fit to tell us, we will never know. You know very well that that subject is off limits and always has been. Suffice it to say that it's better late than never."

They sat in companionable silence for a long moment, Heero gently brushing and Duo watching him in the mirror, then Duo spoke again.

"It was a beautiful ceremony." He said wistfully.

"It would have been a sight more beautiful had SOMEONE not been blubbering throughout the whole thing." Heero said pointedly. "I swear, between you and Quatre Winner..."

"Weeell, I was moved." Duo looked sheepish.

"I wish you _could_ have been moved."

Duo poked his tongue out at Heero in the mirror, and was rewarded with a playful swat upside the head with the hairbrush.

"I'll say this for Treize and Wuffers though," Duo said, leaning back until his body rested against Heero's as he stood behind him, "Those guys sure know how to throw a party. It was good of Relena to give her palace over to them like that. It was the perfect venue. Oh yeah baby..., that feels so good." This last he added as Heero had laid aside the hairbrush, buried his fingers deep into his hair and had begun to massage his scalp.

"Good of her, or merely politic?" Heero asked with rhetorical cynicism, "After all, as much as he likes to play it down, Treize still wields a great deal of political power and Relena always did know which side her bread was buttered."

"Perhaps," Duo conceded, "But it was still a good party. Luckily the weather held so that the party could spill out onto the lawn. Wuffers was worried that it was going to rain and he has been watching the weather reports like a hawk for days."

"He had a contingency plan up his sleeve in case of bad weather, so it wouldn't have mattered all that much."

"True, but that would have meant no peacocks and no fireworks."

Heero's fingers froze in mid-massage and he regarded Duo in the mirror.

"I think the less said about the peacocks the better, don't you?" His fingers resumed their slow, rhythmic motion.

"Weeell...," Duo said, grinning sheepishly again, "I was only trying to get them to open their tail feathers."

"Duo, the opening of a peacock's tail feathers is a courtship display. Chasing them around the garden was hardly likely to evoke such a display was it? It's not as though they were likely to mistake you for a prospective mate."

"Yeah, well the fireworks were good anyway," Duo said, abruptly curtailing any further discussion of the 'peacock incident'. "Not a cloud in the sky and a perfect view."

"Yes," Agreed Heero, "And the way the sky lit up with the Kushrenada coat of arms at the end was spectacular. I wonder how they did that."

"I dunno," Duo said, "But I'm sure Wufei does. He used to be quite good at pyrotechnics at one time, as I recall. And that... feast they laid on, it was the best food I've ever tasted."

"Coming from someone who says that after eating a McDonalds Happy Meal..." Heero said dryly.

"I do not!" Duo retorted indignantly.

"Yes you do." Heero withdrew his fingers from Duo's hair, turned away and began unfastening the cuffs of the dress shirt he still wore.

Duo watched in the mirror as Heero divested himself, first his shirt, then shoes, socks and pants. The mere sight of his husband's unclothed body had always been sufficient stimulus to rouse him, and this occasion was no different, already being well on the way due to Heero's recent ministrations. As Heero stood, clad only in a pair of boxers as he was himself, Duo rose from the vanity stool and turned to face him, his need bulging from the crotch of his shorts. Without preamble he launched himself at Heero, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, one hand around his neck, holding him close, the other kneading Heero's buttocks and forcing their groins together.

Duo broke the kiss to whisper breathlessly, "Now, here."

"Duo..." Heero began, but his reply was stifled as his lips were claimed once again.

They kissed for a while longer, but hero knew what Duo wanted and though reluctant, he knew better than to argue with his husband when he was in this primal mood. For Duo meant that he wanted to be taken roughly, just where they stood, no preparation or lubrication. He sometimes demanded this even though it meant soreness and discomfort for him, especially afterward, and would brook no opposition or refusal from Heero. Well, if that was what he wanted, that was what he was going to get.

Heero broke the kiss, pushed Duo from him and turned him roughly around so that the long-haired man was once again confronted with his own reflection in the vanity mirror, with Heero behind him. Heero reached around and, with a swipe of his hand, swept aside the assortment of hairbrushes and cosmetic paraphernalia that littered the lacquered surface. He placed a hand between Duo's shoulder blades and pushed, forcing the other man's upper body over and down. Duo braced himself with his hands, his unbound hair spilling around him in swathes of billowing chestnut. Heero deftly pulled Duo's boxers over his buttocks, down his legs and first lifting one foot then the other, removed them completely and threw them over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. He also used the opportunity to part Duo's legs, allowing himself access.

Heero himself was more than prepared. Even as Duo had kissed him he had known what would shortly be required of him. His own hand had stolen inside his shorts and had been stroking and pummelling his penis into life. Now it jutted from his body in a proud arc, large and swollen, purple in colour from the blood that engorged it and imbued it with life and weeping with anticipation. Taking it in his hand, Heero pumped a few more times and then, placing the tip against Duo's puckered entrance, he pushed forward, forcing himself in with one swift stroke.

"Oh Jesus!" Duo cried out profanely, his sharply drawn breath clearly indicating the pain he felt, but as Heero hesitated, Duo began to rock himself back and forth. "Come on lover." He murmured impatiently, so Heero complied.

He began thrusting, slowly at first then, once he was sure that Duo's discomfort was not too great, he increased the pace.

"Yeah that's it baby, harder!" Duo implored, so Heero, eager to comply, applied his hand to his husband's shoulder blades once again, pushing his upper body even lower, until it rested directly on the vanity top. He then reached down and, placing a hand at the crook of Duo's knee, raised one leg until it rested beside him on the vanity top at a right angle to his body. In this position Heero's thrusts drove even deeper within Duo's tight passage and the long-haired man grew even more voluble. As he listened to this litany of approval and encouragement, the thought passed fleetingly across Heero's mind that for a relatively religious person, the names of Duo's deities sprang to his lips at the oddest moments.

Their coupling was quick and intense, and as Heero felt his climax approaching, he withdrew from Duo altogether, but before the other man could voice a protest, he lifted him, turned him around and lay him down again, this time with his back against the vanity top. With his hands behind the crook of Duo's knees, he elevated both legs, placed himself between them and re-entered Duo's body. Holding the other man's knees against his chest, began thrusting once again at a heightened pace, withdrawing almost fully only to drive himself in again up to the hilt. This drew cries of pleasure from Duo, which spurred him on. He raised Duo's legs until the other man's calves rested on his shoulders, which freed his hands and enabled him to grasp Duo's neglected cock and pump it fiercely. They climaxed simultaneously shortly afterwards, Duo screaming Heero's name and issuing a veritable fountain of come that coated Heero, himself and the mirror. Heero's climax was somewhat quieter, if no less intense, and his spending was contained within Duo's hot, tight passage.

He bent to kiss Duo, their tongues toying languidly with each other, and as he grabbed some tissues from a nearby box and applied them to the pools of semen on his husband's torso he asked gently,

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah baby, I'm fine," Duo replied shakily, "But let's go to bed now, I'm whacked and my ass hurts."

"Oh Trowa, it was all sooo lovely..."

Trowa had lost count of the number of times his husband had uttered this same statement that evening, but he was sure he could count them on the fingers of both hands. He said nothing though, allowing Quatre to continue.

"...and they both looked sooo happy. "I'm sorry I cried so much, but I was so happy for Wufei, for both of them."

Trowa looked down at the golden head that rested comfortably against his chest as they lay together in bed, he sitting up against the headboard with Quatre lounging comfortably against him, and smiled indulgently. He placed a light kiss on Quatre's crown before he spoke.

"There's no need to apologise darling," He said, "And anyway, Duo gave you a good run for your money, so I wouldn't worry about it. You should try and get some sleep though, love. It's very late and it's been a long day."

"Oh I'm not the least bit tired," Quatre replied exuberantly, "I couldn't possibly sleep a wink."

"I'm sure I could soon tire you out." Trowa murmured, dropping his voice suggestively. However, Quatre seemed to be miles away, deep in private thought. After a moment he sighed happily, then raised his head to look up at Trowa.

"What do you suppose they are doing now, Treize and Wufei I mean?" Trowa forbore to reply, he merely glanced down at Quatre, one fine eyebrow elegantly arched. "Oh," Quatre said as he caught Trowa's silent drift, "Oh yes, I suppose they would be." He lowered his head and nestled against Trowa's chest once more. "Do you remember our wedding night?" He asked coyly.

"I'll never forget it." Trowa replied with a wry grin.

"Neither will I." Quatre said dreamily. "You absolutely took me to heaven that night."

"I could take you there again if you'd like." Trowa suggested in a sultry voice, but Quatre continued in his earlier vein, as if he hadn't heard,

"It was all sooo magical." He said, then suddenly he scrambled to his knees, somewhat encumbered by the springy mattress, and knelt, confronting Trowa with arms akimbo, "And I'll never forgive you for not telling me about the balloon." He spoke sharply, but the merry sparkle in his eyes belied his tone. He raised his arms, spreading his hands in a dramatic gesture, and began to recite melodramatically... "_All the guests were assembled on the lawn. A hush fell over the crowd as all eyes followed the searchlight that scanned the night sky. Then suddenly, a snow-white hot-air balloon, bearing the device of the Kushrenadas, appeared over the palace rooftops. As it slowly descended, four ropes were hurled over the edge of the gilded basket, and four acrobats in gaily coloured costumes slid to the ground, performing a death-defying aerial ballet as they descended. On reaching the ground they guided the balloon to rest, whereupon the front of the basket fell away to form a red-carpeted stairway and, hand-in-hand, the happy couple disembarked and joined their guests on the lawn. Altogether a most unique entrance_." He finished with a theatrical flourish, and both men collapsed on the bed with laughter.

"You should have been a dramatic poet." Trowa said when he had regained his composure.

"But you knew all about it and you didn't tell me." Quatre said in mock accusation.

"I'm sorry my love, but I couldn't." Trowa said, cupping the other man's cheek gently as he knelt before him. "Wufei told me what he wanted and asked me to choreograph a routine for the acrobats, but he absolutely swore me to secrecy. He wouldn't even let me give you the vaguest idea of what I was doing because he knew you would have wormed the whole thing out of me in no time flat."

"No I wouldn't have." Quatre protested defensively.

"Oh yes you would have, you little minx." Trowa replied fondly, pulling Quatre to him and enfolding him in his arms. "All you would have had to do was to bat those beautiful eyes at me," He said as Quatre settled against his chest and smiled up at him, "And I would have told you anything you wanted to know."

"Darling." Quatre said and gently stroked Trowa's cheek. "So that's what all those late-working evenings were all about." He took Trowa's left hand and began casually toying with the three rings he wore on the ring finger. They were all love-tokens given to him by Quatre himself, one of which was his wedding ring. "I felt quite neglected. I thought that perhaps there was... someone else."

"Never! Never, ever." Trowa said with sudden vehemence. He flexed the arm that held Quatre to him, pulling him closer still.

"I know my love," Quatre said, and he raised the hand he held to his lips and pressed his lips to the fingers, "I was only joking. You're probably right though," He admitted, "I could never have kept the secret. Not from Duo anyway."

"And the other secret?" Trowa asked gravely.

"You mean what Wufei told me last night? That one I _will_ keep." Quatre said. "Poor Wufei, he's so afraid. I so wish I could help him but beyond listening, I can't do anything – no one can."

"Not even Treize?" Trowa asked.

"Especially not Treize." Quatre replied. "He refuses to confide in Treize, so Treize cannot help him. He's trying to deal with it all alone, and it's destroying him. Hopefully he will be able to relax and not think about it too much during their honeymoon. Wufei will have the second scan when they return, then _que sera, sera_. All we can do is be there for him whenever he needs us."

"And pray." Trowa added softly.

"And pray." Quatre agreed. "Trowa," He said in a syrupy voice, as he traced a random, circular pattern on his husband's chest with his index finger, "I'm not tired, but perhaps you might be able to tire me out. Do you think you could take me to heaven again, just as you did on our wedding night?"

"A capital suggestion darling," Trowa said, without a trace of irony, "Why didn't I think of that?"

Wufei lay wide awake as Treize slept. It had been a long day, and although bone-tired, sleep eluded him. The day had been divided into three parts, the ceremony during which he and Treize renewed and exchanged their vows, followed by a sumptuously lavish banquet, then a grand ball, which had been the climax of the evening. When they had finally left the ball, they had been conveyed directly to the marina where Trowa's yacht was moored. By way of a honeymoon, they were due to spend a week or so cruising wither their fancies took them.

Once on board and firmly ensconced in their stateroom, they had fallen upon each other and had first made torrid, passionate love, then a little while later, gentle, tender love. Treize, fatigued by his exertions and the rigours of the day, had fallen asleep shortly afterwards, but not before he had taken Wufei in his arms, told him how much he loved him and assured him that whatever happened, he would always love him. At this point, all of Wufei's pent up troubles, cares and fears had swept over him in an overwhelming wave of emotion, and it was with difficulty that he stemmed the flow of the tears that stung his eyes and blurred such vision as he had. He had clung to Treize as the older man held him in his arms, and there they lay, as the yacht cruised on, Treize finally falling asleep and Wufei remaining awake.

He now lay on his husband's chest, rising and falling in time with Treize's deep, rhythmic breathing, thinking. He thought about the day, about how it had definitely been the happiest of his life, how everything had gone according to plan and how it had all been just as he had always imagined it would be. He thought about the dreams that tormented him night after night, about his forthcoming brain scan, and what it might or might not reveal. He thought about Quatre's visit to him the previous night, of how by merely listening he had dispelled all his fears. He also thought of Quatre's only words of advice to him. 'Wufei, trust Treize' he had said simply.

"Treize...," He shook the man's shoulder. "Treize, are you awake?" He asked, pitching his voice at a speaking volume. Treize stirred beneath him, then after a moment or so he replied sleepily,

"I am now, my pet. What is it, are you not feeling well?" He reached up and switched on the reading lamp above his head. He blinked once or twice as his eyes accommodated to the sudden glare, then he looked at Wufei with concern.

"No, I'm fine." Wufei replied. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, sweet." Treize said, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He stroked Wufei's hair gently.

"They say that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, do you think that this is true?"

"Undoubtedly." Treize replied without hesitation, and if he thought the question a strange one to be woken up from sleep and asked in the middle of the night, he gave no sign.

"In that case," Wufei said, "I have something to tell you."

11


	19. Pirol Onyx

Pirol Onyx

By DRL

Sally Po made her way slowly along the corridor towards an interview that she dreaded with all of her stout heart. Through her own negligence she had been responsible for the near-death of the man she loved. The situation was made even worse because the man in questioin also happened to be the adored husband of one of the wealthiest, most powerful and influential men in the entire world. His Excellency Treize Kushrenada was not a man to lightly cross, and not only had she crossed him, she had almost killed his husband! Even now Wufei was by no means out of the woods. He might yet die and if he did, her feet would not touch the ground – she was certain of it.

'How could I have been so stupid?' She mentally chided herself, then chided herself anew for indulging in so futile a thought. After all, what was the point in crying over spilt milk? What she should be thinking about was how to put the situation to Treize so that the damage to her own career and her reputation as a physician was mitigated as much as possible, but the way she felt now she could not really care less whether she never practised medicine again. This was just as well she thought with a sardonic smile because she was sure that His Excellency would see to that personally.

She slowed her steps as she reached the door to one of the many plush waiting lounges that the clinic boasted. For all that it was an extremely efficient, reputable and well-equipped medical facility, Dr Steven Scrivener's clinic catered to the extremely wealthy, and the ambience, décor and amenities provided Dr Scrivener's pampered patients, and their friends and family, with all the 'comforts' that their social position accustomed them to, and his exorbitant fees reflected this. The door to the lounge was closed, but a small window was let decorously into it. This window could be shuttered in the interests of privacy, but was actually uncovered.

She looked in and saw him, seated facing the door in an oxblood leather club chair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, one hand resting on his knee and the other lightly clenched and pensively supporting his chin. Although he held his head upright his eyes were cast down and appeared to be fixed on a spot on the floor before him, a few feet distant. Considering the fact that he had just witnessed his husband in the throes of a violent seizure of unknown origin and seen him rushed into emergency surgery, he seemed remarkably calm. Sally was not sure quite what she expected him to do, pace the floor perhaps, or possibly break down and weep uncontrollably? Though in her experience this is what family members usually did as such times, she was sure that neither of these reactions ran true to Treize's character. Taking this into consideration, she concluded that she would actually expect him to do exactly what he was doing now.

As she regarded him she recalled a telephone conversation she had had with Wufei a week or so previously. On asking him how the honeymoon was going he happily replied, 'lots of sun, lots of sea and lots of sex – it's perfect.' She felt her cheeks burn as she now considered Treize in the light of this statement, even though at the time it had caused her a stab of pain.

Suddenly he raised his eyes and they met hers as she observed him through the window aperture. Although he had obviously seen her he remained motionless in the chair, and realising that her advantage was lost, she opened the door. Her heart drummed against her ribs as she stepped into the room. Gentleman that he always was, he rose as she entered and took a step towards her, his face a mask of inscrutability, and as he towered above her, even under these circumstances she thought for the umpteenth time how regal, majestic..., and imposing a figure he cut. It was he who spoke first.

"Sally, what happened, where is Wufei, is he alright?"

She saw behind the mask then. Though his voice was superficially calm, an undercurrent of tension was readily discernable. She caught the barely controlled tremor in his voice and the quiet despair in his steely gaze, and suddenly she had no though for herself or for whatever Treize's retribution might be for what she had caused. Her only though was to offer what modicum of comfort she could to the stricken soul that stood before her. Wufei was his whole life, she knew that well enough, and she could not even imagine the hell he must have been going through during the forty or so minutes that had passed since the Chinese ex-pilot's sudden seizure, while he waited anxiously for news. Although she and Wufei had been close friends for many years, her relationship with Treize had, until relatively recently, been tenuous to the point of non-existence, mainly due to her own obstinacy and folly. This ice had broken over the past year however, and now instead of the lofty, unassailable aristocrat that she had always perceived him as, all she now saw was a friend in great need of comfort and reassurance. Regardless of propriety she closed the distance between them and enfolded him in a warm embrace.

"Oh Treize, I'm so sorry." She said as her cheek rested briefly against his chest. She felt him stiffen beneath her and heard him draw a quick, horror-stricken breath and realising that she might have given him the impression that the news she carried was bad, she quickly released him. She took a step back so that she could look up into his face, but kept hold of his hands. "Wufei is okay for the moment," She said, hoping to allay his worst fear, 'But his condition is quite serious." He said nothing, but his eyes begged her for further details. "Here, sit down and I will explain everything." She led him back to his chair and watched him lower himself stiffly into it before she seated herself beside him.

"Can I see him? I should be with him." He said anxiously, and made as if to rise again.

"No Treize," Sally said quickly and laid a quelling hand on his arm, "You have to remain here. Wufei's condition is... such that you would not be permitted to see him just at present." She hated to be so mealy mouthed but she wanted to break it to him gently. "Listen to me. I will explain to you what happened, but I must tell you now that..." She hesitated and dropped her gaze for an instant before taking a deep breath and resuming her narrative, "...that there are some things that I didn't do and should have done, which might have prevented what just occurred." Treize gave no response. He merely regarded her with the same uncompromising gaze he always employed. "Do you understand?" She pressed, "That means that this whole thing might have been my fault. In fact it probably was my fault."

Treize merely inclined his head in acknowledgement of her words. "Please tell me what happened to Wufei." He said evenly. Wondering whether there was any limit to the man's **_sang froid_**, she began.

"You no doubt recall that the result of the CT scan Wufei underwent just prior to your wedding was non-conclusive?" He inclined his head again and she continued. "Well I wasn't satisfied with that result, because I had my suspicions as to what was causing Wufei's symptoms, you know, the headaches, blackouts, nausea and vomiting..." Treize nodded once more, "...and the result neither confirmed nor refuted my suspicions."

"What did you think it was?" He asked.

"I suspected a cerebral aneurysm." She said, then continued in response to his raised eyebrow. "This is where a weak point in the wall of a blood vessel that supplies blood to the brain bulges out and fills with blood. So long as this is all that happens, everything is relatively okay. The greatest danger is rupture. Once this happens, haemorrhaging into the brain occurs, bringing with it the risk of permanent brain damage, disability or death." She saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly at her last words, but his gaze remained unflinching and she continued. "Most aneurysms remain undetected until they actually rupture, and this is the problem. The longer they stay undetected, the more likely they are to rupture, and the likelihood increases as time goes on. People with unruptured aneurysms have an estimated 1-2 risk of rupture each year, which is quite acceptably low, but 80-90 are not diagnosed until after they have ruptured. This is because the condition is so benign and exhibits almost no symptoms..."

"Until it is too late." Treize interposed flatly.

"Yes." She agreed with a heavy sigh. "Sometimes though, sufferers do exhibit symptoms. Some aneurysms occasionally bleed into the brain a little without actually rupturing, and this what I believe was happening to Wufei. The symptoms of such bleeding include headache, nausea, vomiting, neck-pain, blackouts, ringing in the ears, dizziness or seeing spots. They are called 'warning leak' symptoms."

"Wufei suffered with nearly all of these." Treize said, the light of comprehension dawning in his eyes.

"Exactly. Dr Scrivener was not unduly worried when Wufei first started exhibiting these symptoms but unfortunately, symptoms such as these are often indicative of several other complaints, and as Wufei had recently had major eye surgery, there was a case for them being connected with that. However, as time went on and he appeared to be recovering well from the eye surgery but the symptoms continued and seemed to worsen, I began to wonder whether there might not be some other underlying cause. I spoke to Dr Scrivener about it and he also agreed that there did seem to be cause for concern. He also agreed when I suggested we run a CT scan."

"Did you suspect a cerebral aneurysm at that time?" Treize asked.

"To be honest, yes I did." Sally confessed. "I'm sorry that I didn't mention anything to you before, but you were preparing for your wedding and... well, you were both so happy. I didn't want to worry you with anything like that at that time unless I was sure. When the results came through and were non-diagnostic, I have to admit that it stopped me in my tracks a little. I was convinced that something was not quite right and I suspected an aneurysm, but the test did not show anything unduly abnormal.

I left it at that for the time being, and did nothing further besides arranging for a further series of tests when you returned from your honeymoon, but I have to confess that I had a little word with Hugo before he left with you. I asked him to keep as close an eye on Wufei as he was able to without being indiscreet, and to let me know instantly if anything untoward happened. I asked him to keep watch for the warning leak symptoms. Those two weeks of your honeymoon must have been the worst two weeks of my life." She added with a slight flush and gave an embarrassed little laugh. "I was so worried about Wufei the whole time. I'm sorry Treize, but I'm afraid I made a big mistake. I should have insisted upon further tests immediately." She spoke the last sentence with ferocity, as though remonstrating with herself. "I should have arranged for Wufei to have a lumbar puncture as soon as the scan tests came up negative..."

"But you didn't because of the wedding." Treize interposed.

"No." Sally conceded with a sigh. "I didn't. Wufei was so looking forward to it and I didn't want to spoil it all for him. And to tell you the absolute truth, there was no real urgency. I suppose I was just overly anxious because..., well for stupid reasons really. If Wufei did have an aneurysm, he might have had it for years with no ill effects. It could quite possibly be congenital, or have been caused by trauma to the brain from his activities during the war. The fact is that many aneurysms remain undiagnosed, and even when they are, it is sometimes deemed best to leave them untreated than to try any invasive treatment. In fact," She continued, "most unruptured aneurysms are detected purely by chance, or sometimes even by accident while tests are being performed for some completely unrelated condition. Only in cases where warning leak symptoms are exhibited are they diagnosed as a result of CT or MRI scans, and sometimes not even then.

"But not all sufferers present these warning leak symptoms?" Treize asked pensively.

"By no means," Sally replied, "But Wufei did, and quite regularly and severely. There was no excuse not to have picked it up. Damn it!" She ejaculated vehemently as she brought her hand down sharply on the arm of her chair. "I should have seen it. There was no excuse."

"But Sally," Treize began, "Unless I have somehow misunderstood your import, surely 'see it' is exactly what you **_did_** do. You quite properly took the necessary steps to test your theory, but events overtook you and Wufei's aneurysm ruptured before you had a chance to complete your tests. Am I not correct in this? He cocked his head quizzically at her.

"Well..., yes, that's right," She admitted hesitantly, "But..."

"And what is Wufei's condition now?" He asked, pointedly cutting her off.

"Well the rupture resulted in some serious haemorrhaging into his cranial cavity. "She said, resuming her professional manner once more. "In rupture cases immediate medical attention is essential to prevent complications such as hydrocephalus and vasospasm from causing permanent brain damage. That's excess fluid around the brain and narrowing of the affected blood vessel." She explained, once again reading his expression. "Re-bleeding is also common after an aneurysm rupture and unfortunately, since Wufei seems to have had so many warning leaks, this is even more likely. The best treatment method will depend upon several factors, such as the size, shape and location of the aneurysm and Wufei's physical condition and medical history. There is also a very good chance that he has more than one. Before any real treatment can be given beyond the initial stabilising of Wufei's condition, we need to find out what we are dealing with."

"Does that mean more scans?" Treize asked.

"No," She shook her head, "scans won't help us now. The scans were mainly to confirm whether Wufei actually had an aneurysm. I'd say that there's not much doubt about that now." She added dryly. "What is needed now is cerebral angiography. A dye will be injected into Wufei's cranial blood vessels and the resulting x-ray images should give information regarding the size, shape and location of any aneurysms present. Then they will be surgically treated by the best methods available, taking into consideration the information shown by the angiography."

"Can I see him?" He asked, his blue eyes gently pleading.

"No, I don't..." She began, but as she read the fear and worry written in his face she relented. "I'll see. I will have a word with Dr Scrivener." She took his hands in hers once more. "Wufei is in the best possible hands Treize, please be assured of that. Dr Scrivener has the best cerebrovascular surgeons and interventional neuroradiologists on his staff, so Wufei will be very well taken care of." Her gaze fell to the floor. "I'm only sorry that I wasn't able to prevent all of this. That spinal tap, if I had only..." He suddenly wrenched his hands free of her grasp and sat back in his chair. She lifted her gaze to meet his once again, alarmed at the sudden violence of the gesture.

"Sally," His steely, uncompromising gaze bore through her like a gimlet and his voice took on an edge as sharp as a razor. "Am I to understand that if you had performed this..., this spinal tap - it is the same as a lumbar puncture, is it not?" She nodded dumbly and he continued. "If you had performed this spinal tap or lumbar puncture, Wufei would not be in the situation he is now?"

"Well I...,"

"Yes or no?" Treize pressed sternly as she searched frantically for an answer.

"Well it's not quite that simple." She said finally. "When the CT scan gave a non-diagnosis, the next step ought to have been a cerebrospinal fluid analysis - a spinal tap..., or lumbar puncture if you prefer." She added quickly."

"Which you failed to perform?"

"Yes." She whispered hoarsely, and lowered her gaze again. She had been expecting this.

"Because Wufei was preparing for his wedding. If you **_had_** performed the test, what would have happened?"

"Well it's difficult to say for sure." She replied, her voice a little stronger now that she was back on familiar, medical ground. "The spinal fluid is tested for the presence of blood and blood-breakdown products, which still may prove non-diagnostic."

"Let us say that the test was positive," Treize said, his steady gaze unwavering and his voice still keen-edged, "Then what?"

"Cerebral angiography," She said. "To determine the physical characteristics of the aneurysm, as I explained earlier. Decisions would then be made as to the best methods of treatment..."

"...which, if I understand you correctly," Treize interposed, "Might have meant not treating it at all."

"Well yes, sometimes that is deemed the best course," Sally agreed, "If the patient's health is poor or if the aneurysm is located in a position that would be too difficult to access to administer a coil or clip, or even for embolisation. In such cases the aneurysm is closely monitored, but left untreated."

"And it could still rupture?"

"Yes, of course. Even a treated aneurysm can re-bleed if clipped or coiled, although the risk of this extremely low." Treize contemplated her in silence for a moment.

"So the truth is," He said at length, "Whether or not you had performed the additional test prior to the wedding, Wufei might still have ended up in this same position." Now it was her turn for contemplative silence.

"Well yes," She said, "He might have, but..." She paused as she observed his gaze suddenly soften and his icy expression melt into a warm smile.

"Then you have nothing to reproach yourself for, my dear," He said, taking her hands in his and pressing them to his lips, "Nothing at all. All along you have done your best for Wufei. It was you who first suspected an aneurysm in the first place. If not for that, we might all have gone on thinking that Fei's symptoms were related to his eye condition and the after-effects of his surgery. Granted, you failed to follow up his initial CT scan with a lumbar puncture, but only out of regard for him and a desire to prevent any upset to his wedding plans. In doing so you still executed your professional duty by posting Hugo as sentry. On our return, with what I can only describe as unseemly hast, considering we had just returned from our honeymoon," Sally blushed hotly at this, "You summoned Wufei to the hospital for further tests, and while undergoing these tests his aneurysm actually ruptured. The way I see it, it was at your insistence that Wufei was actually here at the time of the rupture, and from I have understood of your words today, this could make all the difference."

"Yes," She nodded, "The fact that Wufei was only seconds away from expert medical assistance at the time of the rupture meant that steps were taken to stabilise his condition immediately and consequently the risk of brain damage, paralysis or..., worse are greatly reduced. It was a very lucky thing that it happened now rather than a few days ago, while you were still on the yacht."

She shuddered at the thought of what that would have meant. Trowa's yacht was equipped with a helipad and helicopter (Quatre had spared no expense for his husband's birthday present), and there was an experienced helicopter pilot amongst the crew, but had Wufei's aneurysm ruptured while they were still cruising, it might well have spelled disaster of a very final kind. It was for this reason that she had been so anxious during Wufei's absence, but it was not the professional anxiety of a physician for her patient, but the natural anxiety of a woman for the man she loved.

"Lucky that it didn't happen on the yacht," Treize said, "But definitely thanks to you that Fei was actually here when it **_did_** happen. "Whatever the eventual outcome Sally, I thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart. It seems as though I am once again in your debt, a debt that I can never repay."

"You're very welcome Treize," She replied hoarsely and she swallowed the lump that rose to her throat. "I only hope that everything works out okay." She blinked rapidly as tears pricked at her eyes and threatened to fall, and to disguise the action she made a show of consulting her wristwatch and rose from her chair. "I'd better go and see how things are going. You'd better stay here for the moment, so that we'll know where to find you if we need you, but I will speak to Dr Scrivener about letting you see Wufei."

"Thank-you." Treize replied. He had risen also. "I had better telephone to let the others know what has happened, but..." He was interrupted by a knock at the door which startled them both with its suddenness. As they both turned towards it, it swung slowly open and the handsome face of Trowa Barton appeared.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Trowa!" Treize exclaimed in surprise, "Yes, of course. What brings you here?" He asked as Trowa stepped gracefully into the room.

"Quatre." He said with an apologetic smile which he extended to both of them, as if that explained everything. At their bemused expressions he continued. "I was in a meeting at work when my secretary bustled in and handed me a note telling me that my husband was on the phone and that it was urgent. Half crazed with worry in case something had happened to him, I excused myself and rushed to the phone. 'Go to the hospital and find Treize,' he said after reassuring me that he himself was fine, 'something has happened to Wufei, I can feel it.' So I disbanded the meeting and here I am."

Sally struggled to stifle a smirk. She could imagine Trowa immediately falling in with Quatre's wishes without cavil or demure, regardless of any other prior commitments. "He didn't come with you?" She asked as she schooled her features.

"No," Trowa said thoughtfully, "I wondered about that myself. I asked him, but he said 'no, it's you he needs, not me. I'll come later'." He gave a small shrug and spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

How clever Quatre Winner was, Sally thought to herself. Trust him to realise that while Treize would ultimately need the support of all his friends, what he needed right now was not the gushing sentimentality of Quatre himself, but the solidly logical, dependability of Trowa. Trowa, who could keep everything in perspective and would prevent Treize from descending too far into his own dark, despairing thoughts as he waited to hear which way things would go with Wufei. Trowa, who could be relied upon not to give way under a tide of emotion if the crux ever came, even if Treize did so himself. Trowa, who would always do 'the right thing'. It was a shrewd and timely move. She had been reluctant to leave Treize on his own, even though he seemed outwardly to be coping. Such men as Treize tended to internalise, and beneath a façade of composure could conceal a dormant volcano of seething, festering emotion, ready to erupt and sweep away all in its torrent of fiery lava. Now she could leave him with Trowa with a light heart, knowing that he would be perfectly fine, whatever happened.

"Well Quatre was quite right," She said gravely, taking a step towards the door, and Trowa, "Something **_has_** happened to Wufei. I need to get back to the Neurology unit to see if there are any developments, but Treize will fill you in on what has happened." She moved towards the door but stopped before exiting. "Thank-you for coming Trowa." She said sincerely, and she hoped that the look she gave him, filled with the intense gratitude she felt, showed him exactly how vital his presence was. "Treize," she turned her head to look at him with a reassuring smile, "I will be back as soon as I can." She turned back to Trowa and as he stepped aside to allow her egress, she caught his hand and pressed it warmly. "Look after him Trowa." She said, in a voice meant only for his ears. Then she left the room and hurried off down the corridor.

9


	20. Helios Wine

Helios Wine

By DRL

_Darkness..., it's so dark. I can't seem to open my eyes. Why can't I open my eyes? I can't move my arms..., or my legs for that matter. I can't seem to move at all. Something happened..., I can't remember._

_I was in the hospital and Treize was with me. We had just come back from our honeymoon. It seems strange to refer to it as our honeymoon, seeing as we have been married for such a long time, but it was a honeymoon to me. The only one I've ever had, despite three marriages, and it was wonderful. We had just come back and Sally insisted that I came to Dr Scrivener's clinic for yet more tests. I was lying in my hospital bed, and Treize was sitting beside me, holding my hand. Then I felt this pain in my head. Such terrible pain. The worst headache of my life. I remember the excruciating pain, then Treize telling me not to worry, that the nurse was coming, then nothing..., just this darkness holding me down, rigid and unmoving._

_Where is Treize? Wait a minute..., he's here. I can pick out the sweet, musky scent of his cologne from amongst the other sterile, clinical smells in this place. This place..., where exactly am I? This is not my usual room, the room I was in before, when I felt the pain. I can't hear the ticking of that stupidly-placed clock and this is definitely a different bed. Much firmer and less comfortable. I can hear the whir of machinery and an intermittent yet steady electronic bleeping, like one of those heart machines you see on tv shows set in hospitals. I can feel something in my mouth. In my mouth and down my throat, but for some reason I am not gagging on it. Treize has often commented on my apparent lack of any gag reflex so at least it has its uses outside the bedroom. Treize would have laughed at that and I try to turn to him to tell him, but I cannot move. I cannot speak. My mind works but my body does not. I can't understand why? _

_I hear a sound beside me, the springs of a chair. It is the sound of Trieze shifting his position, a sound I remember well from the last time. But it is not the same chair that Treize sat in as he kept his vigil at my bedside the last time I was in here. It is a different chair and I am in a different room. It is just as it was when I had my eyes bound after my corneal transplants. My hearing was much keener then that I ever recalled it previously being, just as it is now. I can think and I can hear, but I cannot speak or move. Why? I don't understand what has happened. I'm trying to remember, but the more I try the more the darkness closes over me, smothering my thoughts and rendering me entirely senseless..._

_

* * *

__The darkness is fading again and I can hear voices. They were far away but they are getting closer now, as the darkness recedes. _

"Oh my god, he looks terrible." All those tubes and..."

"I know darling, I know."

_Quatre and Trowa. I recognise their voices, but what are they doing here (wherever this is) and what is wrong with Quatre, he sounds so distressed? I feel someone take my hand and enclose it in warm, soft ones. It must be Quatre because Trowa would never do such a thing – not to me anyway. Where is Treize I wonder? I try to speak, to ask them, but the attempt is futile. I cannot communicate at all. It's so frustrating._

"Do you think he's going to be alright?"

_It's definitely Quatre and he is sitting in the chair that Treize was sitting in before._

"I hope so. Sally said that the coma could last anywhere from days to weeks to months, even years. She said that it is quite common after a major brain haemorrhage such as Wufei just had."

_A brain haemorrhage? Is that what happened? Shit! No wonder I had such a god-awful headache. Well at least I now know why I can't move or speak. Poor Treize, he must be so worried. He does fuss over me so. _

"Do you think he can hear us Trowa?"

"I don't think so, although I have heard that coma victims can be brought round by hearing songs by their favourite singers and such like."

"Do you think that he might come round if we talk to him?"

"Well it can't hurt. Quatre?"

"Yes love?"

"Do you think..., do you think that you could 'feel' whether he can hear us or not? You know, empathically I mean."

_Nice one Trowa. I don't understand how he does it but I've seen Quatre in action, and if anyone can bridge this gap, he can. I need him to tell Treize that I'm alright, that he mustn't worry. _

"I don't know, but I'll try. . . . . . . . . . . . Wufei, it's me, Quatre. Can you hear me?"

_Yes Quatre, I can hear you. Please god, I hope you can hear **me**._

"You're a little under the weather at the moment, but it's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine soon, okay? We're all thinking about you and praying for you. Trowa is here with me and he says a big hi. Treize was here but he's under a very great strain at the moment so we sent him home for some rest so that he can keep his strength up. He was very reluctant to leave you, but we insisted. Well Trowa insisted actually, and Treize eventually saw reason. He agreed that he would be no use to you if he fell ill too. I will stay with you until Treize comes back, but unfortunately Trowa has to go soon."

_You sound upset about that, so I assume he's going to be gone for a while. Where is he going?_

"I think you're right Trowa, I don't think he can hear us at all."

_Yes, I can hear you. Try harder Winner, try harder!_

"Are you sure love? I know, I'll talk to him and you concentrate."

"Okay Trowa."

"Er, Wufei, it's Trowa here. I'm sorry I have to leave but duty calls. There has been a natural disaster on the L2 colony and the Winner Foundation is putting together an aid program. To evaluate the scope of our commitment I'll be taking a trip out there to see the extent of the damage and to see exactly what we are looking at in terms of rebuilding."

_Oh well done Trowa. You always were the humanitarian amongst us. Not for nothing did you win that Man of the Year award last year. We were all so proud of you, but I really thought Quatre was going to burst with pride. It was really quite amusing._

"Anything?"

"No, but keep talking."

"Okay. Um..., I'll be flying out to L2 tonight. Quatre won't be coming with me though. We decided that it would be best if he stayed here with Treize, especially with you..., well, we thought that he might need some support should, er..., should anything... happen. You are both guests in our house after all, and we would be failing in our duties as hosts if we were to leave you both alone, even without such er, unfortunate circumstances. "

_There's no need to be so 'tactful' Trowa. I'm quite alright and nothing is going to 'happen' as you so delicately put it. Thanks for looking after Treize for me. I know how the two of you can't bear to be parted for a moment so I appreciate the sacrifice._

"It's no good Trowa. I don't think he can hear us at all. I can't feel anything from him.

_But I **can** hear you Quatre. _

"Never mind darling. At least you tried, and it **_was_** a bit of a long shot. I think we have to go now anyway. The nurse is coming to tend to Wufei."

"I suppose you're right. Wufei, we have to go now, but I'll be just outside and..."

_No, they can't go. I have to get through. I have to let them know that I can hear them. I CAN HEAR YOU QUATRE, I CAN HEAR YOU._

"Trowa, I just felt something.., wait a minute..., yes, I can feel him..., he can hear us..."

_Well I succeeded, but I think the effort was too great. I wanted to tell them something, but I cannot. The darkness, it's swallowing my mind again, pulling me under..._

_

* * *

__It's receding again. How long have I been here? Quatre and Trowa were here I remember. Trowa was telling me that he had to go to L2 and Quatre was a little upset because he couldn't go with him. I can hear something. There's someone here. Is it..., no, it's not Treize. Where is he? It's Duo, and he's sketching something. I can hear the scritch-scratching of the ink pen he always draws with against the paper of his sketchpad. It's an unmistakable sound and a very familiar one, if you know Duo. I hope he's not sketching me – if Quatre's reaction was anything to go by, I must look a fright. He's angry. I can tell by the violence of his penstrokes..., and by his sotto voce muttering._

"Fucking bastard..., don't know why I ever married him."

_Heero, of course. They must have had one of their famous quarrels. The two of them are incorrigible when it comes to this._

"He's so mean to me, I'm sick of it. Just because he has had a bad day at the office, he comes home and snaps and barks at me, like it was my fault. Dunno why I stay with him..., apart from the sex..., and the fact that I love him so much."

_There you are Duo, asked and answered._

"Can't even go running to Q with my troubles 'cos he's got enough of his own, being so miserable because Tro's away on L2."

_So he's gone has he? How long ago I wonder? How long have I been here?_

"I tell ya Wu, you don't know how lucky you are, having Treize to live with instead of an anal retentive like Heero. Who the hell cares whether the fucking glasses are spotted or not? If it bothers him that much, why can't he just get a dishtowel and polish the damn things already? Well if he thinks he's getting any sugar tonight, he'd better think again. . . . . . . Hey babe, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see Chang. I would ask you the same question, but I assume I would get the same answer."

"Yeah, that and to get away from **_you_** 'cos you were being such a fucking asshole."

"Yes, well I apologise for that. I had a bit of a stressful day."

"No worries babe, you're forgiven."

"What are you drawing?"

"Portrait of Wu. I thought I'd give it to Treize, you know, for when he's not here. Whaddaya think?"

"It's a beautiful portrait and a beautiful thought. Why don't you put it down for a minute and come sit over here, and I'll show you how sorry I am about the glasses..."

_From the soft sighs and moist kissing sounds I can hear I assume that all sugar privileges have been restored. Typical Duo, his resolve has the strength of tissue paper. I feel the darkness engulfing my remaining senses again, so I'll leave them to it..._

_

* * *

__My mind is swimming back into consciousness and I can sense another presence. It's Treize this time. I know it from the scent of him, from the familiar rhythm of his breathing and from the lightness of his touch as he caresses my cheek. I wish I could tell him how much I've missed him and how glad I am that he's here. What's that he's saying..., no Treize, you mustn't say that..._

"... so sorry Fei, so sorry to have brought you to this. It's all my fault. I started this whole thing. If I hadn't coerced you into having that eye operation, you wouldn't be lying here now. I know that both Dr Scrivener and Sally Po say that that's not true, that the two events were unfortunate but completely unconnected, but how can I possibly believe that? It's entirely too coincidental to be credible and even if it were, it is still my fault. I'm sure that Sally would have discovered this aneurysm thing sooner had we not been in such hast to depart on our honeymoon cruise. "

_No Treize, this is nonsense._

"Sally herself admitted to me that she would have performed the necessary tests sooner, but she delayed them because we had to leave for the cruise, and since it was me who suggested renewing our wedding vows in the first place, the whole thing becomes my own stupid fault. I suppose that this is what indulging your every whim gets me, my pet, but it made you happy, and I don't regret that for one second."

_Ah yes, that was nice. Kiss me again. On the forehead will have to do because of this thing down my throat. What is it anyway? _

"I have to go soon, my love. I can see the nursing staff hovering outside. They will vouchsafe me a few minutes more, but only a few. I hate to leave you but the rules are different here in the intensive care unit, and visiting is strictly controlled. It is not possible for me to stay with you as I could when you were in the other room. Here they have you hooked up to monitors and ventilators, they have electrodes taped all over you and they have tubes inserted into your arms for drugs and drips and goodness knows what else. It's all quite distressing. It breaks my heart to see you like this my love, all because I tried to make you happy."

_I can hear him choking back the emotion. Don't cry Treize, I'm alright, really I am. Wait a minute, I think..._

"Come back to me Fei, please come back to me. I'm desolate without you. I miss you so much. I . . . ."

_He felt it, I'm sure he did. I'll try again_

"Fei? Can you hear me?"

_He definitely felt it this time - I heard the sharp intake of breath. I feel the numbness in my limbs dissolving away. I think I can open my eyes. He's released my hand and risen from the chair. He's probably gone to call the nurse. Yes, here comes the cavalry._

"...my imagination. I was holding his hand and talking to him, and suddenly I distinctly felt pressure. It was very faint, but it was there. Then I asked if he could hear me, and I felt the pressure again, slightly stronger this time, then his eyelids flickered. Look, there, did you see it?"

"Yes your Excellency. Your husband is definitely coming round. I'll go and call the doctor."

_My eyes have finally opened to the most wonderful sight I could ever have wished for. Treize. I try to speak to him but I finally gag on this thing that is in my throat._

"Shhh my pet, don't try to speak. There is a ventilator in your throat. It's been helping you to breathe while you have been asleep. No love, don't try to pull it out. Just lie still. The doctor is coming and you are going to be fine. Just fine."


	21. Dispur Shale

Dispur Shale

By DRL

"Heero, you're insane!" Duo ejaculated as he handed his husband a pile of dirty dishes. "'_Citizen Kane'_ is the best movie ever made? How can you possibly say that? It's not even in colour." He added with an air of finality, as if that decided the matter.

"Philistine!" Heero murmured as he took the dishes and proceeded to stack them into the dishwasher. Duo clicked his tongue in irritation.

"How many times have I gotta tell ya Heero, you're supposed to rinse then off first." Heero expelled a heavy, exasperated breath.

"And how many times do **_I_ **have to tell **_you _**that I flatly refuse to wash dishes before I put them into a DISHWASHSER. Why keep a dog and bark yourself?" With that, Heero firmly closed the door of the machine.

With a heavy sigh and another click of his tongue, Duo re-opened the door of the dishwasher. Utilising the hose-extension of the kitchen sink tap, he switched the water flow from jet to shower and proceeded to 'hose down' the crockery **_in situ_**.

"I told you," He grumbled as he showered the dishes, "The bits of food block up the drain if you don't wash them off first."

"Then the machine is inefficient and inadequate in its design." Heero stated flatly. "It is supposed to be a labour-saving device, but if you end up having to do more labour..."

"Shut-up and let's get dessert." Duo closed the door of the dishwasher and opened the door of an enormous, upright freezer. After rummaging around for a moment or two, he emerged carrying his prize – a large tub of triple-choc ice-cream. Pausing only to collect a spoon and to grab Heero by the hand, he carried it to the dining table and resumed his seat.

"So," He said as he removed the lid from the tub and proceeded to tuck into the sweetmeat with a will, "What movie did we decide on?"

"Why don't we let Quatre choose, since he is our guest?" Heero suggested.

"Yeah babe, good idea." Duo licked melting ice-cream from his spoon with a practised tongue and turned to the blond seated across the table. "Any ideas Q?" Quatre shrugged.

"Oh I don't know, anything really." He said morosely.

"Oh come on Cat, "Duo said imploringly, "I know you're missing Tro and I know that me and Heero are a pretty poor substitute, but we **_are_** trying. You gotta meet us halfway here."

"I'm sorry Duo, but I did warn you that I would be poor company, today of all days." Quatre replied, somewhat defensively.

"I've got a news flash for you Q," Duo said dryly, "You've been poor company for a week and a half, ever since Tro left for L2 in fact."

"Duo!" Heero hissed sharply. He shot his husband a menacing glare.

"It's okay Heero," Quatre's features softened into a smile. "Duo's right. I know that the both of you are only trying to help and I am grateful, really I am."

He reached out, covered Heero's hand with his as it rested on the tabletop, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Heero sat at the head of the rectangular table, with Duo and Quatre on either side. He looked up and met the blond's eyes, smiling shyly at the display of affection.

"Duo, perhaps Quatre would like some dessert." He said, turning admonishing eyes to his husband who was still consuming the ice-cream with considerable relish.

Duo made a small sound in his throat as if to indicate that he would at least entertain the notion, and held a spoonful of triple-choc out to the blond, eyebrows raised in enquiry.

"No thanks Duo, I'm good." Quatre replied with a shake of his head. Heero shot his husband a menacing glance, then turned to his guest with an apologetic smile. Quatre's hand still covered Heero's, and he gave it another gentle squeeze. "I know," He said with an airiness he far from felt, "As its Valentine's Day, let's watch a romantic movie."

Duo readily agreed and he and Quatre hastened to the living room and proceeded to sort through the Maxwell-Yuy movie collection to find the most romantic offering. Having placed the selected disc into the Maxwell-Yuy's state-of-the-art home cinema system, they settled themselves on the sofa. Duo and Quatre immersed themselves in the movie and Heero, after finishing clearing up in the kitchen, kept them copiously supplied with chips and popcorn (despite the fact that they had just finished dinner) and Kleenex.

"That was lovely," Quatre sniffed, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue as he watched the closing credits roll across the screen, "but I guess I ought to be getting home. It was very good of you both to offer to entertain me on Valentine's Day, but I think you need some time to yourselves now. I'll phone Hansen to come and pick me up."

"Are you expecting a call or something babe?" Duo asked as he lounged comfortably against Heero's chest, "That must be the 100th time you've looked at your watch this evening."

"No er, yes, I am actually." Heero stammered uncharacteristically. "It's nothing, just a bit of business." He released Duo from his embrace and rose. "I'll phone your driver for you Quatre." He disappeared into his study, which was one of the few areas in his and Duo's large, loft-style apartment that actually had a door, and this he closed firmly behind him.

Duo made a wry face and shrugged, as if to indicate that he had no idea what was going on and not much real concern either. Heero's business affairs were something that he gave a very wide berth indeed.

"So Cat, tell me," He said, turning back to his guest, "What's the most romantic thing Tro's ever done?" Quatre sighed wistfully and cast his eyes up to the ceiling, high above.

"Where to start...?" He said. He proceeded to regale Duo with tales of his husband's romantic endeavours, each one more tender and sappy than the one before. Heero rejoined them and resumed his comfortable sprawl on the sofa, Duo resettling himself between his parted legs. He smiled as he realised that Duo had been most artful in picking the one topic of conversation that the blond would be a willing and enthusiastic participant in. "And the best one," Quatre continued, "Was when he hired **_'Les Trois Maisons'_** for my 30th birthday. The whole restaurant, just for the two of us, can you imagine? With a sting quartet playing all of my favourite pieces and the staff waiting on us hand and foot. We had a wonderful meal, then we danced all night, just the two of us. It was lovely."

Heero and Duo were quite sure that it had been. This event had happened only a matter of months ago, so it was still very fresh in their minds, but they let him tell it again. Suddenly he smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I'm rather monopolising the conversation. I got a little carried away. Duo, now you tell me, what is the most romantic thing that Heero has ever done?"

"Now let's see," Duo tapped his chin with a contemplative finger, paying no heed at all to Heero's cautionary growl, "When he got down on one knee to propose to me is way up there, but I think the most romantic thing he has ever done was when I threw my wedding ring into the river 'cos I was mad at him, and he went to so much trouble and expense to get it back for me, just 'cos I wanted it. That was soooo sweet." He turned and patted a scowling Heero's flaming cheek. "He even applied to City Hall to have the river dammed up so that he could look for it. Now is that love or isn't it?" Duo looked round and blew his husband a kiss.

"Yes, it certainly is, and..." Quatre's words were interrupted by a loud rapping on the Maxwell-Yuy's front door. Duo stiffened immediately.

"Who the hell can that be at this time of night?" He asked with a worried frown, "And how come they got up here without pressing the buzzer first so that we could see them on the vid screen?"

"It's okay, "Heero said dismissively, "It's probably one of the neighbours, or maybe even Hansen. Quatre, would you mind?"

"Not at all." Quatre replied and went immediately to answer the door.

"Heero, no..." Duo exclaimed and attempted to get to his feet. He knew, equally as well as did Heero, that their apartment, being the Penthouse, had such tight security that not even their neighbours could ascend to the Penthouse level without declaring themselves and being vetted by means of a surveillance video loop. Hansen definitely could not have, even if he **_could_** have reached them so quickly, which was highly unlikely.

"Shhh!" Heero hissed, and tightened his hold on Duo, keeping him in place. Duo, realising that whatever was in the wind Heero was fully aware of it, stopped struggling and listened. He was just in time to hear Quatre give a squeal of delight.

"Trowa!" They heard him cry. The resonant timbre of the responding voice was definitely Trowa's, but his words were inaudible to the listening couple. Duo turned to Heero and saw him give small smile and a nod of satisfaction.

"You knew all about this?" He asked. Heero nodded.

"I've seen how miserable Quatre has been since Trowa has been away on L2, and sap that I think he is, I felt sorry for him. After all, he only stayed behind because of Wufei and Treize, and as terrible as their situation is, at least they get to be together on Valentine's Day, albeit in the hospital. It hardly seemed fair.

As you know, the situation on L2 is quite dire because of the disaster. Communications are poor and commercial transport is virtually non-existent, so it was extremely difficult for Trowa to even communicate with Quatre, and even more difficult for him to come back home. To cheer our poor, dejected blond up a bit I spoke to a few associates and I managed to circumvent the proper channels so that Trowa could come home in time for Valentine's Day. He's very late though; he only just made it."

Duo scrambled to his feet, took Heero by the hand and led him to the front door. As they stood, arms about each other's waists and watching Quatre and Trowa as they kissed passionately in the doorway, Duo turned to Heero.

"Forget what I said earlier," He said, "**_This_** is the most romantic thing you have ever done."


	22. Fluxus Pewter

Fluxus Pewter

(Chapter 22 of the 'Contemplation Indigo' series)

By DRL

Wide awake, I lay still for a while, languishing in the comfortable warmth of Treize's arms. We lie in bed, close together, my head resting on his chest, one arm around his body and my leg, crooked at the knee, lays against Treize's thigh. Treize lies on his back, one arm lightly around my shoulders. He is awake also. Despite the light, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he draws breath, I know this quite well. Even if he were not gently toying with my hair, I would have known it. After almost fifteen years of sharing a bed, I can easily detect the subtle difference between Treize's breathing patterns during sleep and when awake. We lie together in the pre-dawn darkness, companionably silent although we are each aware that the other is awake. We had both fallen into a light doze after the intensity of our lovemaking oh, I don't know how long ago now, but not long; judging from the heat of Treize's body and the dampness of the sweat as yet un-dried on his skin, perhaps only a few minutes.

We were lying awake, much as we are doing now, our bodies pressed together. I was experiencing my habitual nightly insomnia, and my restless wakefulness had awoken Treize, as it often did. He had awoken with a semi-erection which, given our relative positions, I could not help but notice. There was a time when this would have irrevocably led to a lusty bout of early-morning sex, but not lately. These days I seem to have lost interest in sex as I have lost interest in everything else I once enjoyed. As usual, Treize behaves with his customary honour and decorum. He doesn't press me or attempt to cajole me in any way, nor does he reproach me. He no longer even makes any advances towards me, thus compelling me to refuse him and Treize is definitely not the sort of man who would claim his conjugal rights by force. He merely endures this enforced celibacy with grace and fortitude, as he does all of the other frustrating idiosyncrasies caused by my current condition. Bless him, he no longer even sleeps in the nude, donning a pair of pyjama pants prior to taking his place beside me in bed, although I'm not sure whether this actually makes things better or worse, but either way, he means well. These pyjama pants are the un-sexiest things that I have ever seen, and I know that Treize must think so too. He would never choose to wear such an inelegant garment (even in his bed), but because of me he is driven to it. Yet again, he has to suffer because of me, stuck as he is with a man who is incapable of being a proper husband to him. This is exactly what I was thinking until it suddenly dawned on me that these were just the sort of negative thoughts I had been warned against in my therapy sessions.

I have been undergoing intensive psychotherapy to combat the deep depression I had descended into following my discharge from hospital after the cerebral haemorrhage I had suffered. I was told that apparently this is quite common after such an illness, since the subsequent recovery and rehabilitation can be quite difficult but I knew different, of course. I had begun to lose my mind long ago - way before the brain haemorrhage. I nod politely however, and humour everyone as they assure me that my depression is an unfortunate but inevitable consequence of my recent surgery and will soon pass, keeping to myself and the very few who are in my confidence, the fact that I actually have a history of such mental disorder, so my slow and difficult recovery from the brain surgery probably has nothing to do with it at all.

My depression is being treated using a revolutionary psychotherapy technique rather than drugs. Treize has always been against my being given any form of anti-depressant or mood stabilizer, both in the past and now and, he maintains, over his dead body will anyone attach electrodes to my head and pass an electric current through my brain. Astoundingly, such archaic methods are still practiced and, I am assured, quite effective. Not for me, however – for me, the relatively soft option of CBT therapy, which actually does work, although it involves a certain amount of pro-action on the part of the patient and one needs to put in the effort to reap the definite benefits. This I have just done, and as a result Treize & I have just made love for the first time in many months, most satisfactorily from my side, but I'm not sure if it was so for Treize. It certainly seemed so and I'd like to think so, but how can I be sure? I could always ask him, of course. Quatre gave me a piece of advice a little while ago, when I was feeling a little _distrait_ but was too afraid to talk to anyone about it. 'Trust Treize' he told me. I have done so ever since and have never looked back; it was sound advice.

I raise my hand and lightly draw my fingertips across the well-rounded mounds of his pectorals, circling his nipples with my fingernail. I feel his breathing deepen. Then, moving myself up along his taller frame, I claim his lips in a sensuous kiss. My own lips are still swollen from the fervent kisses we shared during our recent lovemaking, where we kissed like lovers rather than brothers for the first time in months. I'm pleased to see that the kiss sends a _frisson_ of excitement through my body, proving that I haven't turned completely to ice, despite my diminished libido. I settle myself against him once again, tucking my head beneath his chin and wrapping my arms about his body.

"Treize," I begin, "Was it..., I mean, did you...? "I tail off, not knowing quite how to put it. He gives a low chuckle.

"How was it for me? Is that what you are trying to ask me?" I laugh self-consciously.

"Yes, I suppose so." I reply.

"As wonderful as ever." He says and tightens his arm around me. "I've missed you Fei." He says in a lowered voice.

"I suppose you know exactly how long it's been." I say, somewhat peevishly, suddenly and unaccountably annoyed with **_him_** for what is ultimately my own failing. He hesitates before replying, and I know that he is weighing up the merits of telling me the truth and telling me a lie. He will opt for the truth, I hope.

"Not at all." He replies, opting for the lie. "I wasn't exactly marking the days off on a calendar."

"I'm sorry." I say, an edge creeping into my voice. "You don't understand – I just can't, I..."

"It's okay Fei," He says in a voice of infinite patience, "It doesn't matter. Why don't you try and get some sleep? It will probably be a long day tomorrow, or today rather." He corrects himself as he acknowledges the fact that it is already almost dawn. I refuse to be headed off, however.

"I suppose you are wondering why today, all of a sudden?" I say.

"Not at all." He repeats the lie. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth." He adds dryly.

"Bastard!" I hiss and turn briskly round in the bed, presenting him with my back and placing as much distance as I can between the two of us without falling off the edge of the divan. He sighs heavily and I feel a slight movement beside me, probably him running a hand through his hair, his usual gesture of exasperation.

"I'm sorry Wufei" Treize says in a conciliatory tone, "That remark was uncalled for and in poor taste. It was a poor attempt at levity and I'm sorry." I remain silent; he sighs again. "Look Fei, I am very happy that you felt able to make love today. I enjoyed it very much and I hope you did too, but if it causes you any distress, then don't do it. You don't have to, not on my account."

"Did you gratify yourself?" I ask brusquely, "With your hands?"

"I don't think we should talk about this any more..." He begins but I cut him off.

"Did you?" I persist through clenched teeth. He hesitates, the truth/lie struggle taking place once more.

"Hardly what I would call gratification, but yes, I did..., occasionally."

Finally, the truth! I turn around in the bed again and return to my former position, filled with remorse and self-loathing. What kind of man am I that I reduce my husband to jerking himself off in the bathroom when he has a living, breathing, able-bodied spouse who should be only too willing to fulfil his every sexual need (within reason, of course). Surely this only serves as confirmation of what I have been telling myself all along. I am a poor excuse for a husband and Treize would be better off without me. The words of my therapist break through to my tortured brain and I realise that I am getting into the dangerous territory of negative thoughts again, but I don't care. It's true, after all. Treize places his arm around me again and holds me close against him.

"You must be exhausted my pet," He says gently, "Try and sleep a little." I shake my head vigorously. "The dreams again?" He asks and I nod in affirmation. "Don't worry," He says, "I'll be here and I'll stay awake. The dreams won't come."

I'm none too sanguine about this, but Treize is right – I am exhausted. Several successive nights with little sleep and the tumble we have just engaged in have taken their toll and I can barely keep my eyes open.

"I love you, my pet." This is the last thing I hear before slipping into a troubled oblivion.

I extricate myself from the tangle of Duo's limbs and hair, and swing my legs down to the floor, perching on the edge of the bed. I glance at the clock on the nightstand, but I don't really need to. My internal clock knows exactly what time it is, which is why I am awake. I have never needed an alarm clock, unlike my slugabed of a husband. I turn around and look down at him as he sleeps, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips.

Although he is quite a man, his face, in repose like this, looks almost as young as it did when I first met him, when we were both little more than children - what was it, fifteen years ago? Although I smile at the memory as I recall that the first thing he did was to shoot me, these were hardly good times for us. It upsets Duo greatly to think back to those days, although it marked the beginning of our relationship and of our love for each other. I force it to the back of my mind also as I rise and cross to the bathroom, closing the door lest the sounds of my ablutions awaken him prematurely. I may call him a slugabed, but he particularly needs the rest just now. He only went to bed a few hours ago after a late session in his studio.

He's working on a commission at the moment, so he keeps rather irregular hours. When his muses inspire him he goes off to his studio to work, whatever time of the day or night that might be. I'm not wild about him going out alone at all hours, but that is how he works and there is not much I can do about it. I can hardly forbid him to go. I can just imagine what the upshot would be if I did that! I suppose I could go with him, but I work an 8.00-6.00 day, so I cannot sit up all night watching Duo paint and besides, he doesn't like me around the studio when he is working. He says that my negative vibes impede his creativity. Negative vibes indeed! It's not that I don't like Duo's art, it's just that I don't understand it.

I shower and dress, then I leave the room (quietly) and descend to the kitchen where I proceed to prepare a pot of coffee. I do it for Duo really, although I usually partake of a cup myself, more because it is there rather than because I actually want it or need the buzz. I open a cupboard and scan the array of carefully labelled jars filled with the flavoured coffee that Duo favours. Tiramisu today, I think.

As I set the beverage brewing I glance up and catch sight of the calendar on the wall. Among the various domestic _aides memoirs_ that Duo has written in on various days, today's date has been circled boldly with a red marker pen. Suddenly all other thoughts flee my mind and I sink down onto a stool at the breakfast counter.

Wufei.

Our friend has been in and out of hospital several times during the past year and today he is due back in again. Duo has circled the date, as if either of us were likely to forget it. It is nothing much this time, just a check-up or something apparently, but nevertheless..., I would feel much happier about it if he did not have to go at all, especially after the last time, when he went in for routine tests, and almost never came out again! My heart gives a lurch of fear as I recall the moment I learned what had happened.

I was at my office that day, chairing a meeting with some senior members of my staff when my secretary put a call from Duo through. I was annoyed when the conference-room phone rang, but also apprehensive. The only person my secretary has instructions to put through during an important meeting is Duo, and Duo knows better than to interrupt a meeting unless it is vitally important. I was prepared for bad news, and there was only one way in which the news that Duo finally imparted could have been worse, and by all accounts this development was a distinct possibility.

Duo barely held himself together as he imparted the news. He told me, in faltering, tear-choked words just this side of complete hysteria, that Wufei had had a massive brain haemorrhage and that his condition was critical. He said that he was on his way to the hospital and that he would meet me there. As stunned as I was by the news I had the presence of mind to nip that idea in the bud immediately. In his current state, the last thing I was going to allow Duo to do was to drive. I didn't want to be visiting both he and Wufei in the hospital. That was when it first began, but I didn't realise it at the time. I drove home and as soon as I walked through the door Duo launched himself at me and fell sobbing into my arms.

When he had regained his composure somewhat, I drove us to that country club that Chang's doctor calls a hospital. When we arrived we were directed to a waiting room, where a smart receptionist told us 'His Excellency and his party' were to be found, managing to make the thing sound like a social event. We followed the directions we were given (nothing so crude as 'follow the yellow line on the floor' at this facility), and found the relevant room, but before we entered Duo turned to me, his face a studied mask, laid a patronisingly gentle hand on my arm and said, _'Now Heero, we have to be strong, for Treize.'_ As if I was the one who had been dabbing at my eyes with a hanky and sniffing all throughout the journey! I merely grunted non-commitally and we entered the room.

Treize was seated in a club chair, one leg crossed neatly over the other and looking as soigné as ever. How he does it I don't know, but that man manages to maintain that look of elegant refinement whatever the circumstances. I was surprised to see Trowa (another dapper looker), seated in another chair that had been drawn close. Looking at the pair of them, one would have been forgiven for thinking that one had just entered the lounge of a gentleman's club rather than a hospital waiting room. I looked around for Quatre, but he was nowhere to be seen. I hate occasions such as this because although I might feel sympathy, I am not much good at showing it or giving comfort. Fortunately though, Duo is and he came across with exactly what was needed. Treize, ever the gentleman, had risen as we entered and Duo rushed across the room and gave him a big, warm hug. I went across to Trowa and he told me briefly that Wufei was still in surgery and his condition was still critical. As we were talking Quatre blustered into the room, and for the first time ever I saw him give his immediate attention to someone other than Trowa. He did the same as Duo, enfolding Treize in a sympathetic embrace. Both Trowa and I saw that Treize was in good hands as far as the comfort went, so we left them to it and stood in the wings until we were needed.

I watched as Quatre and Duo sat with Treize. The poor man was obviously beside himself with worry and his anguish was plainly written on his aristocratic features, although he managed to maintain his stately bearing. As I regarded him, the thought that first come to me as I listened to the news about Wufei from Duo came back to my mind. To my shame, all I could think of was how glad I was that it wasn't Duo. I should have been thinking of how terrible it was that it had happened to Wufei, but although this went without saying, the thought that first occurred to me was that I was glad it had not happened to Duo. As I said, it had begun back in my office when Duo first broke the news to me. My first reaction was shock at the terrible news, but as I listened to Duo's voice I recalled thinking 'thank goodness you are safe and well'. I quickly pushed the though from my mind, but it remained on the periphery of my consciousness and kept coming back to me as I drove home, and now, as I read at the pain and anguish in Treize's eyes as he looked at Duo and Quatre without seeing them, I began to wallow in my selfish thoughts once more.

I though about how I would feel if I had been told that Duo had suffered a brain haemorrhage and was near death. I looked at Treize and my heart went out to him. I could only imagine what he must be feeling. Once again I thought how glad it was that it wasn't me. I hope to redeem my self by saying that I wasn't thinking of how glad I was that I wasn't going through what Treize was going through, but how glad I was that Duo was fit and well and driving me crazy, rather than fighting for his life on an operating table, although this mere semantic probably does not enhance my image in the least. I glanced across at Trowa and wondered whether he was entertaining the same thoughts. I couldn't tell by looking at him of course, so I thought I would do a little probing.

'Trowa,' I asked him, 'What would you do if something happened to Quatre?' He looked sharply at me, then averted his eyes nervously.

'Nothing is going to happen to Quatre.' He said curtly. He cast a tender glance across to where Quatre sat with Treize and Duo, then he looked down at his shoes, refusing to meet my gaze.

I assumed from this that he had indeed been thinking as I had, but his way of dealing with it was to bury his head in the sand. I gave him a pitying look. He knew as well as I did that Quatre was just as vulnerable to mishap as anyone else and that merely saying what he had would not make it so, but if this was how he dealt with the issue, then who was I to burst his bubble, however fragile? I did not subscribe to this ostrich-attitude, but I merely looked on and gave thanks to any deity that would listen that this was not happening to my Duo.

The sweet aroma of the coffee fills the kitchen and I hear the machine make the final gurgling sounds that herald the end of its percolating process, indicating that the beverage is ready for consumption. I rise from my seat, retrieve a mug from the tree on the counter and pour myself a cup. After adding sufficient sugar and cream to render the drink palatable, I turn my back to the counter, lean against it and take a contemplative sip.

Duo..., he's a pain in the ass, he drives me to distraction and sometimes I would like nothing better than to bind him, gag him, lock him in the cellar and throw away the key, but I cannot imagine my life without him. I have known him for so long and we know each other so well, that if the unthinkable were to happen and he was somehow taken from me, there would be a great void in my life that could never, ever be filled. Wufei and Treize come to my mind once again, as they very often do these days. Seeing Wufei as sick as he has been lately has shaken me up a little, just the mere thought of it ever happening to Duo. Treize came dangerously close to losing Wufei after the brain haemorrhage thing. If I transport myself into his shoes back then, I can still only guess at the hell he must have gone through. To be honest, I don't know how he wasn't driven mad! Physical pain – that I am no stranger to and that I could cope with, but emotional pain – now that is another matter entirely. I think I would have gone out of my mind if I had had to sit there day after day beside a comatose Duo, not knowing whether he would ever come round, and if he did, whether he would have suffered brain damage or not, and if so, to what extent. Sally told me that people in Treize's situation often did break down and that she was keeping an eye on him. She needn't have worried though – Treize is made of sterner stuff. He kept his sanity (and his suavity).

As I said before, Duo and I have been together for such a very long time and under such circumstances I suppose it is quite easy to take someone for granted. I know that I was guilty of doing this to Duo a little while ago. He was always there and had been there for a long time, and I guess I just always expected him to be there, whatever I did and however I behaved towards him. Our relationship had always been somewhat volatile, and we fell out and made up again quite regularly. It has been said that I can be a little harsh and I admit to being a little mean to Duo sometimes, but I got my first real wake-up call around 18 months ago. I did a really selfish and thoughtless thing and Duo got really upset about it and walked out on me. It was by no means the first time he had done this, but he usually only stayed away one night, two at the most (at Quatre & Trowas more often than not). This time, however, he stayed away for much longer, so much so that I believed that he was never coming back. He certainly swore that he never would! For the first time I got my first taste of life without Duo, and it wasn't pleasant. Nothing I did made any sense without him and life soon became quite pointless. I became quite depressed, which is the last thing I expected, always believing that I was not that type of person, and I soon reached the stage where I would have done anything to have him back..., anything at all.

He eventually came back to me, but over three hellish months had passed and by that time I was quite desperate. I learned my lesson very well, and although we still fight with each other fairly regularly, I will never let things go so far again, and I will never, ever take Duo's presence for granted again – he is too precious to me to ever risk losing him.

Suddenly I get the urge to do something nice for him, to show him how much he means to me. Perhaps I'll buy him that cabin in the mountains he has had his eye on. He has shown me the property details from the real estate agent once or twice, but I haven't shown too much interest so far, I must admit. I'll dig them up and make an appointment to at least view the place – that will make him happy.

Pleased with my decision I put down my now cold coffee, with a view to going off to look for the property details that Duo gave to me, but as I do so I see him descending the stairs to the ground floor of our duplex. Dressed in an old t-shirt and ratty sweat pants, he pads silently across the hardwood floor on bare feet, coming to rest in the entrance to the kitchen. He stands for a moment and gives way to a yawn as he scratches inelegantly at his nether regions, before he enters the kitchen, crosses to where I stand leaning against the counter and plants a perfunctory peck on my freshly-shaved cheek.

"Mornin' 'ro" he murmurs as he reaches behind me for a mug, preparatory to pouring himself a cup of the flavoured coffee, the scent of which is currently permeating the entire apartment and is probably what has fetched him from his bed so soon after his having retired to it.

I take in his rumpled clothing, sleep-mussed hair and bleary-eyed expression, and on impulse I grab the arm he has extended towards the mug-tree, spin him round into my arms and give him a long, passionate kiss. Never one to be slow-witted in such a situation, Duo's surprise lasts but a millisecond before he wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me back with a passion and fervour that threatens to surpass my own. We kiss for long, languid moments, then we break and Duo pulls slowly back until his gorgeous eyes meet mine.

"Not that I'm complainin' lover," He says with a quirky smile, "But what was that for?"

"Nothing," I reply, "I'm just pleased to see you."

Treize waits until I am comfortably seated before taking a seat himself. Although it is of considerable weight, I edge my chair closer to his and I reach out to take his hand, entwining my fingers with his and clasping his hand tightly. I am nervous, although I have no real reason to be - another symptom of my depression. Treize looks at me and gives me a reassuring smile. As I meet his calming blue gaze I feel my anxiety begin to quell a little, and I smile back. We tear our eyes from each other and look across the vast mahogany desk to the portly form of Dr Steven Scrivener. He smiles benignly back at us, and my anxiety melts away completely.

"Well now young man, "He says affably, "How do you feel?"

"Fine." I reply, and for the first time in a very long while, I actually do.

"Good." He says briskly, as though he had expected nothing less. "Now the results of your latest series of tests have come through," He leafs desultorily through the sheaf of papers on the blotter before him, "And I think we can safely say that you are doing extremely well. In fact, you are well on the road to a full recovery – physically anyway". He adds, and this addendum jars my newly-lifted spirits a little, but I smile through it. The doctor continues, unaware of the effect of his throw-away comment.

"Your corneal transplants are fine so far, although we will keep you under observation for a further twelve months. Rejection is unlikely at this stage, but not impossible, so better safe than sorry. Your stitches will be removed later this afternoon, which is why we are having this little interview now. We will remove all of them today, which is a measure of how well you are recovering from the eye surgery. Some people who do not do so well have their stitches removed in stages. It will be local anaesthesia only, but I'm sure you will still not feel up to listening to me droning on after the procedure. The laser surgery to correct your vision can be undergone at anytime after the stitches have been removed, then you'll be as good as new."

'As good as new?' I stare blankly at Dr Scrivener. He is so very good at coming out with such statements. At the moment I feel as though my whole life has been irrevocably changed and I will never be the person I once was. Some might say that this is a good thing, but just the same... He carries on talking, but I am not really listening. I've lost myself in my thoughts again, not bad thoughts this time, but they will get worse the longer I indulge in them – they always do.

"Now your recovery from the brain surgery is also going well," The doctor says, "Very well indeed. I'm very pleased with your progress and, as I said, your recent test results were extremely positive..."

I raise my brows sceptically at this. It is all well and good for him to say this, but for me the recovery was long, arduous and extremely painful. Dr Scrivener seems not to have noticed my dubious expression and he continues.

"... Although I hear that you are still experiencing some uncomfortable symptoms." I say nothing, but Treize nods emphatically. Dr Scrivener runs his pen along the typewritten list that lays uppermost on the sheaf of papers before him. "Ah yes...," He taps the pen on the desk rhythmically as he studies the list, and inexplicably the sound irritates me. Just as I draw a breath preparatory to telling him to stop it, he stops tapping and looks up from his papers, giving me an apologetic little smile, as if he had read my thoughts. "I know that you are probably feeling a little anxious about all this," He runs his pen up and down the page (making no sound this time), "but it is all quite normal and is really nothing to worry about." Now if I had been given a dollar every time this man has said this to me, I would be twice as rich as Treize and Quatre put together!

"Don't worry about the headaches," He continues, his eyes cast downward as he studies the list, "They can last from anything between two weeks and two years but unless you experience one as intense as the one prior to your aneurysm rupture, the chances of re-rupture are almost zero, although a second aneurysm is always a possibility. I see here that you experience drowsiness and fatigue during the day, but insomnia at night. We'll talk about that later. Incision pain at the surgical site, back pain, jaw pain..., these will all pass with time. Now, the constipation..." My eyes widen abruptly and I shoot a glare at Treize as I feel the hot colour flood my cheeks. He refuses to meet my gaze and merely squeezes my hand. It is clear to me that between Treizie, Hugo and this doctor, I am to be stripped of every shred of privacy and dignity. Is it any wonder that I am depressed? "...this is a rather unfortunate side effect of your pain medication. Hugo will give you something to help." He looks from me to Treize, then back to me again. "Now unless you have any questions, we'll get you down to theatre and get those stitches removed."

Questions? Oh, I have questions alright. Such as why do I have these sudden mood swings, irrational feelings of sadness, emptiness, hopelessness and anxiety, why can I take no interest or pleasure in anything, not even sex with my husband (although it was certainly interesting and pleasurable this morning). Why do I feel so listless and tired all the time, but at night I cannot sleep? Why can I not focus my mind or concentrate on any one thing? Why, when I have so much to live for, do feel like I want to die? Why does this thing afflict me so – why me? I do not pose these questions though. The question I do ask is somewhat less rhetorical.

"Once the stitches are removed, does that mean I don't have to come back here?" I ask somewhat hopefully. Dr Scrivener laughs.

"Yes it does," He replies, "But I'm wounded that you look so happy about the prospect."

"I..., I'm sorry," I flounder, "I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't," The good doctor waves away my apology, "And even if you did I could hardly blame you." He adds. "You must have had enough of this place to last you a lifetime. Now," He directs this next statement to Treize, "we'll get this young man down to theatre and then I'll talk to you about the other thing."

I know that he means my depression and I shift even closer to Treize and tighten my grip on his hand. Admitting to myself that I suffer from such a disorder is bad enough, but talking about it to others is extremely difficult for me. It disgusts me that I am so weak as to succumb to this... this thing. I can feel it coming on, and I try to resist, but it just overpowers me, engulfs me, saps me, and I have not option but to submit...

He is asleep now, deep, restful sleep for the first time in months. I can tell by the evenness of his breathing and the stillness of his body. No murmuring, tossing and turning as there is when the dreams come. I hope I am not being too precipitate, but I think that things will get better quite soon.

The minor surgical procedure that he underwent this morning went like a breeze and the stitches in his eyes are gone now. I am quite pleased about this since I found the tiny v-shaped sutures around his irises most disconcerting. They could only be seen when one stared deep into his eyes, but I had more opportunity to do this than most. His vision has deteriorated a little once again, but Dr Scrivener is not unduly concerned about this and he says it will improve again shortly. I hope he is right – the last thing Fei needs right now is a setback such as this.

Strangely enough however, Fei seems singularly unconcerned about this development. He's been absolutely marvellous today, which is why I think that happy days will soon be here again. On the way home from the hospital he actually telephoned Duo Maxwell to ask if he wanted to come over to watch a martial arts film with him. I had purchased said film for him some time ago because I though he might enjoy it, but hitherto he had not, so far as I knew, shown much interest in it. This loss of interest in his usual hobbies and pastimes is one of the symptoms of his depressive condition. As I said, however, out of a blue sky he invited Duo oveer and the two of them sat and watched the movie, volubly egging on the hero and jeering at the villain like a couple of schoolboys. In fact, so enthralled were they with it that they sat through the whole thing twice! My heart sang with joy! It was the first time that Fei had shown a real interest in anything in such a long while.

It didn't stop there though. Wufei then suggested that we all go out for dinner: Quatre, Trowa, Heero, Duo and the two of us, even going so far as naming his preferred choice of restaurant. Needless to say we all acquiesced, and we all had a very good time. It was just like old times and I the others noticed the change in him too. Trowa went so far as to draw me aside and ask what happened at the hospital, 'because whatever it was', he said, 'it sure has put him in a good mood'. The evening tired him out though, and he was a little more subdued on the homeward journey. It was still relatively early but we excused ourselves and went up to our room. The others understood – Fei is definitely recovering well from the brain surgery, as Dr Scrivener confirmed this morning, but he still tires quite easily.

We took a relaxing bath together (another thing that Fei once enjoyed, but had recently lost his enthusiasm for) and it was then that he mentioned that it might be a good idea if he started working on a new book. Reigning in my utter delight, I told him that yes, perhaps it might and I listened as he outlined his ideas to me. If I needed any further confirmation that things were beginning to look up, he initiated a night of passionate lovemaking, during which he was as enthusiastic, inventive and pliant as ever he had been.

Afterwards, as he lay in my arms, sated and contented, I encouraged him to try to get some sleep, assuring him that I would remain awake lest he be plagued by nightmares again. ''S okay', he said drowsily, 'I don't think the dreams will come tonight.' Somehow, **_I_** don't think they will either.

29


	23. Symphony Rose

Symphony Rose

By DRL

Heero retrieved his jacket from the back of his chair. He slid his index finger through the designer label, slung the jacket over one shoulder and walked out of his office.

"I'm out to lunch." He curtly informed his secretary as he passed through the outer office, which was her domain.

"Yes Sir." She said and beamed brightly at him, completely ignoring his dour demeanour. After four years she was used to him.

As Heero made his way through the office to the lift, he contemplated his surroundings. The office, with its smartly contemporary interior décor, fully equipped with every modern, ergonomic convenience, was a bustling hive of activity. Each of his employees that he passed in the corridor greeted him with an affable smile and a polite greeting. He nodded absently to each one in acknowledgement, still deep in his own thoughts.

He was considered to be a successful man. He was master of all he surveyed within this office complex. He was well-to-do – perhaps not as wealthy as the aristocratic Treize and Wufei, nor yet the Barton-Winners but he and Duo certainly were no paupers. His clothes, though casual (the dress code in his office was relaxed, right up to the top), were well-cut and expensive. He lived in the penthouse apartment of an exclusive waterfront block in a highly fashionable part of town. He had enough money to ease himself quite comfortably through life. He owned a thriving, nay, a burgeoning business and he had a wonderful, loving husband. He nodded curtly as he proceeded along the corridor; yes, he was a man of pith and substance. So, why was he filled with dread and trepidation at the thought of a simple cosmetic procedure?

The restaurant was only a few blocks from his office building. As he approached the entrance, the door was opened for him by a stocky doorman dressed in a dark suit, dark roll-neck and dark glasses. Heero entered, exchanged a few words with the hostess, who was dressed in an identical outfit to the doorman minus the glasses, and was ultimately shown to a table. He was a few minutes early and was not surprised to find the table empty. He had time only to cast a cursory eye over the menu before he glance up and saw Trowa weaving his elegant way between the tables towards him.

Trowa looked particularly soignée today, Heero thought, and concluded that he had probably been a recent recipient of the attentions of Nicky, the image consultant that Quatre and he retained. The man, while fussy and effeminate in his manner, was an absolute master of his craft and he kept Trowa and Quatre groomed and styled to perfection. This was all to the good of course, because both Trowa and Quatre were media darlings. Their lightest word or deed was considered newsworthy and photographs of the golden couple regularly appeared in the society pages of the quality newspapers and magazines. Even now Heero could not help but notice the attention that Trowa attracted as he made his way across the dining room. Nicky had even begun to work his magic upon Duo. At Quatre's insistence, his husband had begun patronising Nicky's uptown grooming salon when, despite his best efforts, his waist-length hair had begun looking a little dull and ragged. As a result, Duo's hair, though now a little shorter overall, was silkier and more lustrous than ever before, free from split and damaged ends and softly layered around the face, so that it fell in a light fringe that swept across his brow, with longer tendrils floating around his jaw. Its natural chestnut colour had been enhanced and intensified, and was now enriched, with golden highlights. Even Heero had to admit that the effect was amazing and Duo looked more alluring now, at thirty, than he ever had in his younger days. Yes, the man good at what he did. 'Hnn', Heero thought, 'Just as well'.

Trowa clapped Heero lightly on the shoulder by way of a greeting and slid neatly into the chair opposite his friend.

"Trowa." Heero said, with a curt nod of acknowledgement. "You're looking well."

"Thank-you." Trowa picked up the leather-bound menu (black leather, of course), and casually perused it. "How's Duo?"

"He's fine." Heero replied. "Quatre?"

"He's well. Working too hard, but well nonetheless." Trowa closed the menu, laid it aside, sat back in his chair and gazed steadily at Heero. "So what's up?" He asked. Heero looked up from his inspection of the menu and his eyes met Trowas.

"What makes you think something is up?" He asked. Trowa spread his hands expansively.

"The fact that we are here." He replied. "You are not exactly a gentleman who lunches, so when you phone me up and ask me to meet you for lunch, it does not take a genius to deduce that there is something on your mind." Heero smiled and nodded, but he was prevented from elucidating further by the arrival of a waiter who enquired whether they were ready to order. They confirmed that they were and both placed orders for chicken Caesar salad and Pellegrino. When the waiter had left, Heero resumed.

"Yes, you're quite right, there is something I wanted to talk to you about but..." Heero cast his eyes downward, "I don't quite know how to put it." Trowa threw his head back and laughed.

"Why Heero Yuy, I do believe you're blushing." He said, then he ceased laughing abruptly. "What is it Heero?" He asked with concern. Heero took a moment to compose himself, then he raised his eyes to meet Trowa's once more.

"Tell me about a full Brazilian." He said.

Heero waited with growing impatience while Trowa laughed until his sides ached. When his mirth had finally subsided and he was once more master of himself, he regarded Heero intently.

"You really mean to do it?" He asked gravely. "I mean, really?" Heero nodded slowly.

"Why?" Trowa asked emphatically.

"Duo." Heero replied simply. "But it's all your fault really," He continued, giving his friend an arch look, "Ever since you started having this..., procedure, Quatre keeps telling Duo how good it looks and how..., well, suffice it to say that he now he wants me to do it. I've made an appointment for this afternoon." He finished unenthusiastically.

"Well, in that case..." Trowa raised a hand and summoned their waiter. "This gentleman would like to change his order." He said, indicating Heero with a languid wave. He halted Heero's protestation with further swift gesture.

"Certainly sir." The waiter acquiesced and stood solicitously by, awaiting further instructions.

"He'll have a 10oz burger with everything on it, fries and a Budweiser." Trowa supplied. "Oh, and while your at it, bring him a double bourbon from the bar – no ice or soda, just neat. If you're going for the full Brazilian," He explained, in answer to Heero's quizzical frown, "You'll need something a little more substantial inside you than a salad and mineral water."

* * *

Quatre reached the end of the paragraph he was reading and looked up. He frowned and looked back to the page.

"What on earth did I just read?" He asked aloud as he realised that, although he had spent the last 10 minutes studying the document on the blotter in front of him, he still had absolutely no idea of the substance of the communication. That he was expected to sign it he knew, but exactly what he was signing...? It could have been his own death-warrant for all he knew or, if the truth be told, cared. He had been finding it difficult to concentrate on his work all day and now he gave up the fight completely. He pushed his chair back from his desk and placed his feet on the desk blotter, crossing them at the ankles. Interlacing his fingers behind his head, he lay back in the supple leather of his high-backed executive chair. The chair reclined easily beneath him and he struck up a gentle rocking motion by the slight flexing and straightening of his knee-joints. His eyes roamed desultorily around the room and came to rest on the wall space directly opposite his desk. He sighed wistfully and his lips curled upwards into a fond smile.

The executive floor of the WEI building had been refurbished and remodelled five years previously. Once installed in his new office, Quatre had regarded the bare expanse of wall facing him, his head cocked contemplatively to one side.

"I know what you're thinking," Said his executive assistant, who stood at his shoulder, "It needs a painting." Quatre shook his head.

"No, not a painting," He replied, "A portrait – a portrait of Trowa."

It took some little time for Quatre to have his wish fulfilled – five years, in fact. Though he wasted no time in eagerly acquainting his husband with his wonderful idea, Trowa, who usually denied his beloved nothing on earth, had too self-effacing and modest a nature to readily sit for a portrait artist so while he did not exactly refuse, he did demur somewhat and Quatre, ever sensitive to this aspect of his love's character, did not insist and the project was sidelined for some time. On the occasion of Quatre's 30th birthday however, the green-eyed ex-pilot overcame his bashfulness and actually sat for a portrait, with the idea of presenting it to the birthday boy as a gift.

He commissioned Duo to execute the work. Though Duo had made something of a name for himself as an abstract painter and sculptor, he was also an accomplished realist, which was all the more remarkable because he was self-taught, having received no formal tutelage. His portraiture style was 'hyper-realistic' and the finished work resembled nothing so much as a blown-up photograph, so fine was his brushwork. He had painted Trowa in a relaxed, casual pose, which suited his insouciant personality. Seated on a high stool, one leg was folded elegantly over the other. He leaned forward slightly, one arm rested across his knee supporting his body, the hand hanging limply from the wrist. His other hand clasped the supporting arm lightly and on the third finger, the three rings that Quatre had gifted his husband could clearly be seen – a plain gold wedding band, a solitaire diamond engagement ring and a diamond-studded eternity ring. Duo had made a point of painting these love-tokens into the picture, knowing that this would particularly appeal to Quatre's romantic nature. Perhaps the diamonds did not sparkle quite as much in life as they appeared to do in the painting, but it was his best friend's birthday after all, and in honour of the occasion Duo gave full reign to his artistic license.

The painting proved a big hit with Quatre and at times when his mind strayed from stock prices, profit margins, mergers and acquisitions (such as now), he would sit back, look straight into Trowa's painted green eyes and say aloud 'Trowa darling, I wish you were here. I'm sure **_you_** could think of something to distract me'. This was undoubtedly true, but today Quatre was alone in his office – alone and restless. Abruptly he swung his legs down from the desk, sat up and picked up the telephone receiver. He made a quick call, replaced the receiver, rose and walked out of his office, grabbing his suit jacket as he went.

Nicky Valentine's grooming salon was as discreet as its service was exemplary. No plate-glass storefront allowing passers-by to view the bustling activity in the salon in an attempt to attract passing trade here. Nicky's clients were admitted strictly by appointment only, and the ease by which such appointments were granted varied considerably depending on the client. The salon was situated on the most exclusive shopping street in town, between a fine jewellery emporium and a ladies' couturier. There was no visible signage – merely a large, black door with a brass plaque appended to the wall beside it. The plaque was impressed with the legend '101' deeply etched in cursive numerals, which was, in actual fact, its street number. Because of this, the salon was commonly referred to as 'one-oh-one', although its regular patrons simply called it 'Nicky's'. Below the plaque was a brass grille, and beside this a brass doorbell. Both Quatre and Trowa were amongst the small and extremely select group of clients who could secure an immediate appointment by merely stating their name, and Quatre now strode briskly along the street, bent on keeping the one he had made only minutes earlier. Clutching a small package that contained an impromptu gift he had just purchased for Trowa (he had glanced into the window of a gentlemen's outfitters as he passed, and caught sight of a silk necktie that perfectly matched his husbands eyes – he could not resist), he approached the black door, pressed the door-bell and spoke his name into the grille. A toneless buzzing sounded and Quatre pushed the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges, and he ascended the single flight of thickly carpeted stairs that led to the salon proper.

The receptionist, an extremely beautiful young woman (everyone who worked at Nicky's was extremely beautiful) recognised him immediately, and bade him take a seat in the waiting area while she advised Mr Valentine of his arrival. As a privileged client, Quatre warranted the personal attentions of the great man himself. He turned to ensconce himself in one of the Josef Hoffman chairs in the waiting area, and stopped dead.

"Heero," He exclaimed, "Whatever are **_you_** doing here?" Heero Yuy looked up from the copy of _Esquire_ magazine he was desultorily leafing through, and gave his friend a look that was part scowl, part plea. "No, don't tell me," Quatre continued without waiting for an answer, "You've come for a little wash and brush up in readiness for tonight." He said as he sat down in the 'quilted' leather armchair beside Heero. "Me too," He said knowingly, as he eased himself into the chair and relaxed, one ankle raised and resting on the opposite knee, "I had the same idea. I thought I'd come in for a quick trim and possibly a manicure." He leaned conspiratorially towards Heero. "I wouldn't want Trowa to be ashamed of me tonight." Heero gave him a derisive look that said 'Yeah, like that's ever going to happen'. Quatre, however, seemed oblivious to his irony and merely smiled brightly at him as he continued his light, cheery banter.

"It's your first time here isn't it?" He asked. "I'm so glad Duo finally persuaded you to let Nicky have a go at your hair. I kept telling him. 'I'm sure Nicky will be able to do something with it,' I said, 'He's an absolute marvel."

Heero glared at the diminutive blond. It was news to him that his hair **_needed_** something doing with it, and he was not sure he wanted the shortcomings of his coiffure (not that he was convinced there were any) discussed between his friend and his husband.

As Quatre prattled on, Heero contemplated allowing him to labour under the misapprehension that he had come here for a haircut. The four of them, he, Duo, Quatre & Trowa were due at a gala awards dinner that evening. Trowa had been nominated for a humanitarian award for his work with the charitableWinner Foundation and he was current favourite and hotly tipped to win, hence Quatre's comment about Trowa's being ashamed of him due to his appearance. Earlier in the year he had picked up a Man of the Year award, also for his charitable work, and during his brief acceptance speech he had insisted that Quatre join him on the dais. Quatre in no way shamed him on that occasion, but he was ever mindful. Heero's haircut cover was plausible, but ultimately unnecessary. Trowa already knew the truth and Duo would know soon enough. Heero had nothing to gain by keeping Quatre in the dark, so he decided to come clean.

"Actually Quatre," Heero interrupted during a pause, "I'm not here for a haircut."

"Oh?" Quatre looked mildly surprised. "What then?" He asked, but before Heero could answer, Nicky Valentine, looking fashionably dishevelled with his ash-blond hair falling to his shoulders in a leonine tousle, facial hair carefully trimmed to look like at least 2 days' growth, crumpled black linen shirt tucked into eye-wateringly tight black leather jeans that were held in place (not that they were in any danger of falling down) by a black leather belt, studded along its length with the gold insignia of the fashion designer _du jour_, came out of a side door and minced across the reception area towards the two waiting men.

"Quatre, darling!" He drawled as he drew level. Quatre had risen as he saw Valentine approach, and the aesthetician now leaned in and kissed the air beside each of his cheeks. "Sooo sorry to keep you waiting but we are absolutely swamped. You can blame that husband of yours. Eeevery time he has one of his charity bashes it's the same." Quatre's attempt to inform him that this was not actually one of Trowa's charity bashes _per se_ fell upon deaf ears as Valentine turned to Heero. "And Heero, sweetheart, it's so nice to finally meet you. Duo has told me sooo much about you, I feel as if I've known you all my life."

Relieved as he was that Valentine had opted to moderate his greeting in Heero's own case and had not subjected him to the air-kisses he had bestowed upon Quatre, Heero scowled. Firstly, there was only one person on god's earth that he would permit to address him as 'sweetheart'. Secondly, he was none too happy about Duo discussing him with this man either. He made a mental note to speak severely to his husband about it.

"Candy here will take care of you." Valentine continued, and for the first time Heero noticed a young woman standing a pace or two behind the aesthetician.

Heero's eyes widened with shock and horror. A woman? Trowa never said anything about a woman! That did it – he was cancelling his appointment immediately and getting the hell out of this benighted place. Heero cast wildly about him for aid in the shape of Quatre, but Valentine had placed a proprietary arm around the blond's shoulders and was leading him away. As they retreated along the corridor he turned back to Heero and threw out over his shoulder,

"Don't you worry about a thing. Candy is the very best we have and her touch is as light as a feather. You won't feel a thing."

Heero rose abruptly and looked at the girl named Candy. She looked immaculately clean in a spotless, white, form-fitting, zip-fronted dress, which Heero assumed was some form of uniform coverall, since the legend '101' was embroidered in black silken thread above her left breast. Her platinum blonde hair was scraped neatly back and twisted into a bun and her make-up was expertly but subtly applied. The dress/coverall was hardly that, however. It barely covered Candy's modesty, leading Heero to wonder whether the uniform actually came as a two-piece and Candy, for the sake of fashion or perhaps for some other reason known only to her, had omitted to don the trousers that came with it. Either way, he was not having her fiddling around with his 'meat 'n' two veg', however pristine her appearance.

"Miss, er..., Miss Candy," He stammered, feeling that as an opening, it left a lot to be desired, "I'm sure you're an extremely capable young woman, but I'm afraid there's been a mistake." She said nothing, but she looked at him just a shade too knowingly for his liking. He ploughed on. "Well not exactly a mistake, but... well yes, a mistake. I've just remembered something else that I have to do. Now. I have to do it right now, so I can't do this. I'm sorry." 'Heero Yuy, you are a babbling fool' he thought as he spoke, but this self-chastisement did not help the flow of his rhetoric one little bit. Candy merely smiled at him, slid her arm through his and led him in the opposite direction to that in which Valentine and Quatre had just gone.

"Come along now Heero," She said with perfect ease, "There really isn't anything to be afraid of." Afraid? This slip of a girl had the temerity to call Heero Yuy afraid? Since this is exactly what he was, righteous indignation swelled within Heero's breast. He stopped walking and wrenched his arm away from the girl.

"I'm not afraid," He stated coldly, "I'm just busy."

"I'm sure you are," She said placating as she slid her arm through his again and proceeded to lead him along the corridor once more, "And as soon as we have taken care of you, you can get on with whatever it is you have to do." She stopped outside a door and opened it. "This way." She said, and preceded him inside, leaving him no option but to follow.

Heero had subconsciously expected something akin to a torture chamber, but he was pleasantly surprised. The room was more like a hotel suite than anything else, with a bed in the centre and doors leading off from the central area. From where he stood he could see a small lounge area through a square archway, with two arm-chairs and a low table between them, strewn with magazines. Candy had released his arm and walked confidently across the room to one of the doors, which she opened and then stood back to allow Heero to enter.

"You can undress in here." She said. Take everything off, even your underwear, then put these on." She handed him a small, sealed plastic packet. "You will find a bathrobe inside, which you can put on before you come out. Take your time, and come out when you are ready."

Heero entered the little room and Candy closed the door behind him. He looked down at the unmarked packet in his hands, not daring to open it. Finally plucking up the courage, he tore open the packet and found it to contain a pair of briefs..., made from paper..., a pair of thong briefs. Heero squeezed his eyes shut. "I can do this", he whispered, "If Trowa can do it for Quatre, I can certainly do it for Duo". Slowly, he began to disrobe.

When he emerged, with the fluffy bathrobe belted tightly round his waist, Candy was arranging a variety of pots, jars and utensils on a table beside the bed. Heero had at first taken it to be a bed, but on closer inspection he saw that it was more akin to an hospital gurney than an regular bed. He also noticed that, ominously, it was wider at the foot than it was at the head; he did not even want to think about why this might be so. However, he did think about the fact that if Trowa were lucky enough to win the award later that evening, it would be a short-lived victory, because by tomorrow Trowa Barton would be dead - very, very dead indeed. He thought about that quite a lot and it gave him a certain grim satisfaction.

"Ah, there you are." Candy said as she glanced up from her work and caught sight of him. "If you'd just like to slip your robe off and jump onto the table."

She spoke in a casual, offhand manner and carried on her preparation as she spoke, paying Heero no more attention beyond the initial glance. Relieved that he was to be spared her scrutiny for the nonce at least as he sat before her, stark naked but for a pair of paper briefs, Heero unbelted the bathrobe, shrugged it off and laid it across the back of a nearby chair. He sank slowly onto the 'table' as she called it, but just as he was beginning to wonder whether he was supposed to lie prone or just sit, Candy looked up from her pots again and handed him a small, cordless device.

"You can adjust the table with this."

Heero looked at the brushed aluminium console in his hand. It bore two arrow-shaped buttons, one pointing up and one pointing down. Each button was labelled in bold text,'UP' and 'DOWN', presumably, Heero thought, because the device had no obviously discernable top or bottom.

"Now," Candy said as she turned her undivided attention to him for the first time since he had emerged from the dressing room. It was very slight, but Heero caught her hesitation as she saw him seated on the edge of the table. Her eyes widened as they lingered on his lean, well-muscled physique. She shifted her gaze from his torso to his eyes in a heartbeat, and smiled to cover her little slip. "Lie back," She continued in a brisk, professional manner, "And remember, you can adjust the table so that you feel comfortable."

Thus began what Heero was convinced would be the most humiliating experience of his life to date. He had felt bad enough when Duo had dragged him to a marriage guidance counselling session, convinced that their marriage was on the rocks. On that occasion they had been sent away with what amounted to a flea in their collective ears, having been told that they were perfectly happy together, their marriage was rock-solid and they ought not to waste the counsellor's precious time. Not in so many words of course, but that was what it amounted to. This time, once again at the behest of his husband, it was not his innermost soul that was stripped and laid bare in front of a total stranger, but his naked body! As he lay on the table, he listened as Candy snapped on latex gloves, and decided against adjusting the bed. Lying in his current prone position, he was not able to see what was being done to his nether regions. He could feel though, and that was quite enough.

Actually, it wasn't nearly as bad as he had thought it would be, due in no small measure to the wonderful Candy. He had been afraid – well, more apprehensive than afraid, but not in anticipation of the pain that the procedure would undoubtedly involve. He was no stranger to intense physical pain, although he had not experienced any such for a good many years. The only pain he felt these days was emotional, and **_that_** none too frequently either. No, what he had been afraid of was the humiliation. The mortification of having to lay on a table mother naked while a stranger manhandled his privates. Manhandled! The last thing he had expected was that the person performing the procedure would be a woman but now that he thought about it, he saw that it should not have come as such a shock. He should have suspected it, should have **_expected_** it. Women were the ones who usually underwent such depilatory procedures so it stood to reason that the practitioners most skilled in the art would be women. Valentine had said that Candy was the best they had. Under the circumstances, the best they had was unlikely to have been a man. Trowa had known this, of course. He had known and he said nothing. Even as he gave Heero a rundown of the procedure, explaining the different levels of service offered, from a simple chest or back waxing to the full Brazilian, he had not breathed a word. Heero now recalled the strange, enigmatic smile that had played around Trowa's lips as they parted after lunch. Now he knew what his friend had been smiling at. Well Heero would give him something to smile about when he next saw him.

Until that time though, Heero concentrated on the moment and as he had previously observed, it was not as bad as he had expected it to be. Before beginning Candy had confirmed with him that he did indeed want the full Brazilian wax. She then explained to him exactly what this included, making quite sure that Heero was under no misapprehension about what was about to happen to him. He gave his curt ascent, then she began. She started with his upper body, smoothing on warm, honey-coloured wax, applying a strip of bleached cotton to the molten wax, then, stripping it off with a firm up jerk of the wrist. It hurt. It certainly did hurt, but not as much as it would when she started on his lower body, Heero was certain.

As she worked Candy talked, and her calm, soothing voice exuded comfort and served to put him at his ease completely. The action of her hands was light and delicate (just as Valentine had promised), but brisk and precise at the same time. She worked with the practised ease of a consummate professional, swift and decisive, and all the while she talked. She talked, but she made Heero talk too, which was no mean feat. She asked him questions about his life and his work and to Heero's surprise, he actually answered them. Before long they were chatting and laughing together like a couple of sailors on shore-leave. Heero's thoughts were completely deflected from what was happening to him and any apprehension he felt soon melted away. That is, until she reached for his paper underwear and gently eased the pouch aside, exposing his genitals.

"Oh good," she said airily, "You have very little pubic hair, so this should be fairly easy."

Heero had relaxed to the extent that he had adjusted the table so that it elevated his upper body to an approximate 45 degree angle, his head lolling comfortably back against a pillow, his eyes closed. As Candy pulled aside his underwear, his eyes flew open and he stiffened visibly, though thankfully not in the area currently under scrutiny. As Heero lay wide-eyed and staring, he prayed that this remained so. Candy had delivered the statement about his lack of nether hair as though making a pronouncement on the clemency of the weather for the time of year, and as she went about clipping such hair as he did have in the region down to a scant quarter inch using a pair of scissors (which she wielded with worrying speed), she continued their casual conversation.

"I've seen your husband in here haven't I?" She asked as she applied molten wax to his genital region. "He's the guy with the beautiful long hair right?"

The whole table where Heero now lay was illuminated by a bank of overhead lights, much the same as an operating table, but Candy now angled a small lamp so that it shone directly on his groin region, bending low over her work so that her face was inches from his body.

"Dear God!" Heero murmured and all of his previous anxieties came flooding back as he realised that he now had another dilemma. As Candy lightly handled his genitals in the course of her work, Heero felt himself 'stirring'. He did not find her ministrations, gentle though they were, in any way sexually arousing, but his groin obviously had its own ideas. Her question about Duo served to focus him, however. Duo – what would Duo say if he could see him lying here getting a hard-on while a woman shaved his balls? He would say plenty, and Heero's ears would not stop ringing this side of Christmas. As thoughts of himself being sent to sleep on the couch for the next two weeks ran through his head, he managed to get a grip on himself.

"Yes, Duo comes here to have his hair done." Heero replied, and his eyes suddenly narrowed. Had Candy mentioned Duo just at that moment co-incidentally, or was it by design? Either way, it had had a desirable result, but Heero still wondered. He hadn't noticed it before, but although he had mentioned Duo several times during their conversation, she had not pressed him further about his husband until now but now, as she worked on his groin region, all of her questions centred on Duo. Although thoughts of Duo would usually give him an erection at the best of times, getting one under these circumstances seemed to indicate a disloyalty to Duo that Heero found unconscionable. Even afterwards, when Candy was massaging a soothing finishing lotion into the newly waxed areas, applying it to his scrotum as well as up and over his penis shaft and head (although this was not waxed), he managed to avoid a full erection, although admittedly this was difficult. He rose almost to a semi-erection at one point, but he managed to master himself when Candy mentioned that she had been to see a recent exhibition of Duo's art, and asked him what he thought of his husband's latest work.

Heero found it difficult to keep up his end of the conversation when, in order to allow Candy access to the hairs between the cheeks of his buttocks that he was certain he did not possess, he found himself lying prone, his legs bent at the knees and elevated until his thighs lay against his chest. Despite all he had been through this past hour, he did not feel quite up to making smalltalk while in this position. However, it did occur to him that he had seen Duo in this position a good many times, while Heero himself thrust relentlessly into him... He swiftly expunged all such thoughts from his mind because nothing but danger lay in that direction. He turned his attention back to Candy, who during this time had been telling him about her training at beauty school, holding forth in such a way that Heero's input was not required. At the time he thought nothing of this, but afterwards he wondered...

When it was all over, finishing lotion applied and paper underwear re-positioned, Candy snapped off her gloves.

"There," She said with finality, "As smooth as silk. Are you feeling any discomfort?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Heero replied distractedly. He only half-listened as she continued to relate a list of aftercare tips and product recommendations. Having run the ultimate gauntlet of a full Brazilian wax, Heero was feeling somewhat adventurous and a kernel of an idea was forming in his mind.

"... you can purchase all of these products at the counter out front." Heero tuned back into Candy's litany just as she tore off a leaf from a pre-printed pad, folded it in half and handed it to him. "You can get dressed now." She took his robe up from the chair and handed it to him.

"Actually," He said, making no move to take the robe, "I'm interested in something else..."

* * *

The awards ceremony was just as lengthy and monotonous as Heero had expected. He had enjoyed the dinner portion of the evening, during which he, Duo, Trowa and Quatre had a good laugh together. Although they lived in the same city, they didn't get together as often as any of them would have liked and whenever they did, they invariably had a merry old time. Wufei had recovered sufficiently from his recent health setbacks for him and Treize to have returned to their home, and they were both conspicuous by their absence at the gathering, and sorely missed by their friends.

The presentation of the awards took place after the dinner and during the lengthy ceremony Heero allowed his eyes to glaze over and his mind to wander. He came to life when, as predicted, Trowa won the humanitarian award he had been nominated for. A very popular choice, he received a standing ovation and Heero rose to his feet and joined in the thunderous applause. Subsequently, he returned to his catatonic state and remained there until the end of the ceremony. During the post-awards party, Trowa took Heero's arm and drew him aside.

"How was it?" He asked. Heero shot him a dark look. This was the first opportunity he had had to pick this particular bone with Trowa.

"You bastard!" He hissed. "Why didn't you tell me that the person who did the waxing at Valentines place was a woman? And don't tell me you didn't know. Of course you knew – she 's the same one who does you." Trowa gave a wry grin.

"Yes, I knew," He replied, "But before you blow my head off, answer me this. What would you have done had I told you at lunch?" As Trowa waited for Heero's answer he swept up two glasses of champagne from a circulating tray and passed one to Heero before taking a sip from the other.

"I would have cancelled the appointment and not gone anywhere near the place, of course." Heero's reply was quick in coming. "Thanks." He added as he raised his glass to Trowa.

"Exactly." Trowa said. "But now, let me ask you this. Are you happy with what she did?" Heero shifted his gaze, looking away from Trowa and out, unseeing, into the throng of guests. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he replied.

"Yes, very happy."

"And you think that Duo will be happy?" The smile grew and became a definite grin.

"Oooh yes."

"Well then." Trowa said with an air of finality. "No harm done, I take it you'll agree." Heero nodded thoughtfully, then he leaned conspiratorially towards Trowa although there was very little chance of their being overheard since the party was in full swing and the room was filled with revellers.

"Er, Trowa," He began, "You undergo this procedure regularly right? Do you ever..., I mean, how do you stop yourself from..." Trowa halted him with a raised hand.

"The answer is **_I_** don't. Candy does it all for me. Whenever things begin to get a little out of control..."

"Such as when she rubs in that finishing lotion?" Heero interposed.

"Yes, that's always a killer," Trowa agreed, "And it happens no matter how often you have it done, believe me. Well, whenever I begin to... rise to the occasion, let's say, Candy just starts talking about Quatre, or about hearth and home or something. That usually does the trick." Heero made a pensive moue and nodded sagely in agreement. Both men observed a contemplative silence for a moment while they sipped their drinks.

"She did the same with me." Heero said eventually.

"Did it work?" Trowa asked.

"Yes, it did." Heero replied "Good old guilt eh?" They sipped in silence once again, both lost in their own thoughts, then Trowa spoke.

"She's great, isn't she?"

"That she is." Heero replied. "Cheers." The two friends touched the rims of their glasses together, then tipped them up and drained the contents.

* * *

Heero and Duo arrived home in the small hours of the following morning. On entering their apartment, Heero headed directly to the open-treaded glass steps that led up to the gallery level, where the bedrooms were situated. Duo headed for the kitchen.

"I'm gonna get a glass of water," He called to Heero, "Do you want anything?"

"No thanks." Heero replied and went on up the stairs. He had been wondering all evening how best to unveil his newly waxed body to Duo but now he had been handed the ideal opportunity on a plate. He took the stairs two at a time, while hurriedly loosening his clothing. Unless he decided on a snack, which was unlikely under the circumstances and given the hour, Duo wouldn't be too long in the kitchen, so Heero knew he had only a very limited amount of time. He was shirtless by the time he reached their bedroom, and he crossed the room to the dressing room, where he completed the job, flinging his evening clothes across the back of a chair rather than putting them neatly away for the first time in his life. Stark naked, he went back into the bedroom and lay down on the king-sized bed manoeuvring himself into the centre. A moment later he shook his head, sat up and laid back against the pillows instead. Still dissatisfied, he then lay back down, this time on his side facing the door, his hand supporting his head and propped up on one elbow. No, still not right. He rolled onto his back and lay with one leg slightly crooked at the knee and his fingers interlaced behind his head.

He was just in time. Duo entered the room seconds later. He was carrying a water glass and the myriad of tiny, satin-covered buttons on the black silk-velvet knee-length, full-skirted Nehru jacket he was wearing were unfastened.

"Phew, what a night." He said with a yawn as he crossed directly to the dressing room as Heero had done, without vouchsafing a glance in the direction of the bed. As he watched him disappear into the dressing room, Heero was willing to bet that Duo's clothes would go the way of his also, i.e. flung carelessly across the back of a chair. Unlike himself however, this was something that Duo did with infuriating regularity, and a look of chagrin crossed Heero's features. He knew that he would be the one who would end up having to hang them up.

Within a few minutes Duo emerged, drawing a large, bristle hairbrush through his un-braided hair. He was clad only in a pair of light, cotton shorts, held up by a narrow drawstring at the waist. This was evidently only barely doing its job since the shorts rode so low on Duo's hips that only the moderate bulge of his genitals seemed to stand between them and disaster.

"I think Tro was a little..." He began, but stopped short as his eyes fell upon the bed... and Heero. A slow, predatory grin spread across his features and he moistened his lips hungrily. "I thought I was too tired for sex, but..." He had begun advancing towards the bed, but he stopped short again and his eyes widened. He took a step or two closer, stopping at the edge of the bed, and peered down at Heero through narrowed eyes. He frowned. "Heero, did you...?" He broke into a manic grin. "You did!" He crawled excitedly onto the bed and knelt beside Heero, the hairbrush falling to the floor, forgotten. His eyes fastened onto Heero's genitals. "You got waxed - cool!" His eyes travelled up Heero's body to his chest, lingered there only a moment before travelling back down to Heero's groin. Wide-eyed now with wonder, delight and fascination, Duo reached out and ran a tentative finger across Heero's _mons pubi_s. His smile broadened. "Shit babe, that feels amazing. It's so smooth." Heero said nothing. He submitted to Duo's inspection with silent satisfaction. "Did it hurt?" Duo turned to look Heero in the face, his voice filled with awe. Although he had torn his eyes away, his fingers still lightly stroked Heero's genital region.

"Yes, but nothing I couldn't handle." Heero replied.

"It just looks so...hot!" Duo said, his voice still filled with awe. He ran the fingers of one hand lightly along Heero's arm, then took hold of his hand and gently raised the arm. He leaned in close and inspected Heero's satin-smooth armpit. "Awesome," He whispered, "Just awesome. Q-man was right, this **_is_** fucking sexy."

"Quatre said **_that_**?" Heero asked incredulously, but Duo ignored him. His attention had been arrested by something else as he let his gaze wander across Heero's body once more.

"Oh my god!" He said in a strangled whisper. Heero had been in the process of adjusting his position so that his back was against the headboard, and as he levered himself into a sitting position, Duo's eyes fell upon something, which had prompted the exclamation. "Oh. My. Fucking. God," Duo repeated profanely, punctuating each word, "Is that what I think it is?" Heero smiled and forbore to reply. Duo had found the other little surprise - the 'something else' he had asked Candy about after she had finished waxing him. Duo leaned in, once again staring hard at Heero's groinef area, but not at his genitals. This time his gaze concentrated on a small tattoo on his husband's inner thigh, near the apex where his legs joined his torso.

The components of the tattoo's design were simple – the Roman numeral 'II' and a scythe. The handle of the scythe was entwined between the vertical strokes of the numeral and the long, sweeping blade of the scythe arced backwards over the top forming an arch, of sorts. The whole design was rendered in black ink and was no more than around 2 inches in height by an inch and a half in width. The tattoo stood out in stark contrast against the light honey-gold of Heero's skin, and this, coupled with the simplicity of the design and the intensity of the ink combined to produce a dramatically powerful image. Duo raised eyes glistening with brimming tears to look at Heero.

"It's me isn't it" He stated in a voice that quavered with emotion. "You've had me tattooed on your body." Heero nodded. "Oh Heero, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." Duo's face crumpled and he fell weeping into Heero's arms.

Surprised and somewhat bewildered, Heero held Duo close until the sudden wave of emotion subsided. He had not anticipated this. He had expected some reaction from Duo of course – surprise, delight, or possibly even disapprobation (although he doubted this), but he had not anticipated... this. Duo wept freely and for quite some time, and Heero began to worry for his husband, wondering whether perhaps his brilliant idea was not quite as brilliant as he had thought. He did all that he could, which was to reach out and grab a handful of the tissues kept within easy reach on the nightstand for quite a different reason, and handed them to Duo. Other than that, he was powerless to offer any comfort since he was at a loss regarding a possible reason for Duo's sudden display of emotion. If not for Duo's last words prior to bursting into tears, Heero would have assumed that he disapproved of the tattoo, but his last words belied this. His husband, Heero thought, even after all these years, was an absolute enigma to him at times.

As abruptly as it had begun to flow, however, the tide ebbed and Duo, after a sniff or two, spoke, his voice hoarse and rasping.

"I'm sorry Heero." He said.

"No **_I'm_** sorry," Heero replied, "I really thought you would have liked the tattoo, but..." Duo raised his head from where it lay tucked under Heero's chin, and looked up at him.

"What do you mean? I loved the tattoo. I loved it, and I love you." He rewarded Heero with a watery smile and a peck on the corner of his mouth, which was all that Duo could reach without any actual effort besides raising his head a little higher. "It was just that the thought of you doing all that for me, you know, first the waxing then the tattoo – those things hurt you know..."

"Yes, I know." Heero interjected in a dry undertone.

"...It just made me cry. Then looking at the scythe made me remember stuff - horrible stuff that I hadn't thought about for a long time. That made me cry some more. But I'm okay now." He sniffed again. Heero cursed himself.

"I'm sorry, I should have thought." He said glumly. "It was just the first thing I thought of when the tattooist asked what design I wanted.

"No babe, I'm okay I said" Duo replied, then added gleefully, "It's a great design. Just wait until Q-man sees it." Heero blenched. He was not at all sure that Q-man was going to see it, nor anyone else for that matter. He had deliberately had the tattoo positioned where only an intimate would see it, and only during the most intimate of moments. As he pondered this however, he realised that just such a moment was fast approaching. Duo had extricated himself from Heero's embrace, had slid down the bed and was now running his tongue lightly along Heero's penis. "Quatre says that waxed skin feels great during sex. Let's see if he's right."

Heero just interlaced his fingers, placed his hands behind his head once again, lay back and allowed Duo to test the theory.

22


	24. Hogmanay

Hogmanay

Chapter 24 of the 'Contemplation Indigo' series

By DRL

"I'll do whatever the fucking hell I want, and you can't stop me!" And with that, Wufei stomped across the room, wrenched open the door and exited the room, pulling the door forcibly to behind him so that it slammed home.

This last he did, not to emphasise his point, but for the simple reason that he knew Treize hated it. It was a childish and stupid thing to do, he well knew it. Indeed, the whole argument had been stupid. Childish, stupid and entirely Wufei's fault. He had woken up 'on the wrong side of bed' as Treize was wont to say whenever he woke in an irascible mood, and he had been spoiling for a fight all morning. Treize's cloying over-protectiveness, which by turn either irritated or touched him depending on his mood, acted as a catalyst and made him tetchier still. He had goaded and sniped at his husband until Treize had uncharacteristically snapped back at him, and that was how it had begun. Treize did not usually argue with Wufei, maintaining a placid tone of gentle reasonableness in the face of Wufei's onslaughts, but sometimes he gave as good as he got, and this was one of those times.

Wufei made his way to his study and flung himself down into the chair that stood behind his desk. 'Go back, throw your arms around his neck and give him a big kiss' a little voice in Wufei's head told him. This usually sufficed by way of an apology, the words 'I'm sorry' being rather foreign to Wufei's vocabulary. Wufei was quick to anger - this fact was well known amongst his friends and acquaintances, but what was equally well known was that his anger was usually short-lived and he was equally quick to forgive. His anger at Treize had faded as soon as he had slammed the door, and he willingly capitulated. He rose from the chair and retraced his steps back to the drawing room, the scene of his and Treize's recent contretemps. When he entered the room, however, he was dismayed to find it empty, Treize evidently having departed on other business. Wufei harrumphed with annoyance and once again flung himself down into a chair.

"Well he can't have been too upset then." He said ungraciously as he drew his knees up into the chair, and settled down.

Where was Treize, he wondered? The French chateau that was their palatial primary residence was too large for Wufei to contemplate searching for him, even though Treize had his favourite haunts, as did Wufei. Despite the size of the house, neither of them usually had to look far to find the other. Never mind, Wufei thought, they would catch up with each other at lunch and he would apologise to Treize then. And then, he thought with a lascivious smirk, he would lead him to their bedroom and demonstrate how truly sorry he was and the rest of the afternoon would take care of itself.

He looked about him at the 18th century opulence of the room. It was a beautiful house, but at times he found its size and grandeur a little oppressive. The fact that he and Treize were due to leave the chateau the next day for a week or so at their apartment in Paris made him feel a little better, but only a little. He did enjoy staying at the apartment. It too was opulent, with its French _Directoire_ era styling and antique furniture, but here it was just the two of them – just himself and Treize, no servants or secretaries or nurses, just the two of them. Wufei smiled to himself in fond anticipation. He loved it whenever they stayed at the Paris apartment. They 'did' for themselves as there were no domestic staff, and Wufei enjoyed the personal attention he received from Treize, who on these occasions invariably spoiled him even more than usual. Yes, he was looking forward to it.

Although neither had a regular job as such, the couple had their own personal interests and past-times in addition to the things they did together, and on a particular day it was by no means unusual for them to encounter each other only at meal times. Wufei saw Treize at lunch as he had anticipated, and after they had eaten he put the rest of his plan into operation. They made love late into the afternoon, then fell asleep in each other's arms.

When Wufei awoke the sky outside the windows was inky in hue with the oncoming twilight and the room was cool. Treize was still asleep; Wufei could tell this from the evenness of his breathing. He slipped easily from the sleep-slackened grip of Treize's arms and padded, naked and barefoot, across to the windows, visiting each in turn and drawing closed the heavy brocaded curtains. The fire in the grate had been banked up by the household staff earlier on in the day, preparatory to being lit later, when the central heating system in the house had been switched off. The central heating was necessary in a house this size for the sake of comfort, but Treize enjoyed the cosiness of a log fire, so both heating systems were employed. Wufei struck a match, touched it to a taper and applied the resultant flame to the kindling in the grate. After fourteen years in this house he was an expert firelighter, and the kindling caught and was blazing within minutes. He turned back to the bed, but stopped short as he saw Treize watching him, his skin glowing golden in the light from the burgeoning flames and his pale blue eyes luminous in the reflected gleam. Treize smiled and drew back the coverlet, exposing the empty space beside him in the bed. Wufei quickened his pace and crossed back to the bed, accepting the unmistakable invitation. He clambered back into the bed and snuggled against his husband's firm, strong body.

"Brrr, you're cold." Treize said with a shiver.

"Not for long." Wufei wrapped himself around Treize, sliding chilled feet up and down his long legs. "There, that's better." He settled against him, his head tucked beneath Treize's chin, an arm across his chest. "So," He asked, "Am I forgiven?"

"Of course," Treize replied and after a short pause he added, referring to the root cause of their earlier contretemps, "Would it bother you that much to attend the New Years Eve Ball?"

"That much and more." Wufei replied flatly.

"But we've attended every year for as long as I can remember, my sweet." Treize protested. He raised the arm that held Wufei against him, took up a lock of his hair and idly twirled the silken strand around his forefinger. "Apart from last year when you were still under Dr Scrivener and we were still with Quatre & Trowa."

"Well, that must be why I am so utterly sick of it and all the sycophantic toadies that we meet there." Treize laughed – a rich, mellow sound.

"Does that go for everyone?" He asked, "What about Milliardo & Lucrezia, they will be there."

"Perhaps not them," Wufei conceded, "So long as they don't bring that brood of bratty children with them." Treize laughed again.

"Fei, how can you speak so of your precious godsons and goddaughters?"

"Please, don't remind me." Wufei said dryly.

"And what about Relena," Treize continued, "She will be there. Surely you would like to see her?"

"Oh, well yes," Wufei made another concession, "I'd love to see Relena. We haven't seen her since the wedding and we still owe her for letting us use her palace."

"Well then," Treize said triumphantly, "That will make it worth going won't it?" Wufei gave a weighty sigh.

"Okay Treize," He said disconsolately, "You win. If you want to go, we will go, but it really is not my idea of a large New Year's Eve."

"What **_would_** you like to do tomorrow evening?" Treize asked. "How would you prefer to spend New Years Eve?" Wufei was silent for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.

"You know what?" He said at length. "Last New Year's Eve was the best I have ever had."

"Why was that?" Treize asked with a chuckle, "No Ball?"

"No." Wufei refuted good naturedly, but forbore to elucidate further. "Anyway," He said, reverting to the former subject, "I can't have the New Year;s Eve that I would like to have, so let's go to the Ball. At least we will be together, and surely that is the main thing." He gave Treize an affectionate little squeeze.

"Mmmm." Treize said distractedly. Suddenly he stirred and patted Wufei's shoulder. "Come on Fe, my lovei," Treize said, sitting up in the bed and causing Wufei to rouse himself also, "I need to finish a few things before the end of the day so I'd better get to it. Let me run you a nice hot bath and you can relax for a while before dinner."

Treize was as good as his word and 10 minutes later Wufei was lying in a large enamel tub, submerged up to his neck in fragrantly foaming, just below scaldingly-hot water, just as he liked it.

"There," Treize handed him an old, leather-bound volume and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, "You finish your book and I'll see you at dinner. And remember, my pet," He sank to one knee beside the tub, smoothed Wufei's steam-dampened hair back from his forehead and placed a light kiss upon his brow, "Whatever my Wufei wants, My Wufei gets."

They travelled from their home in the Dordogne to Paris by helicopter, which Treize piloted himself, and by mid-morning they were at the apartment. Wufei had resigned himself to attending the New Years Eve ball and was in an ebullient mood as he unpacked their luggage. They had stopped to purchase provisions on the way from the heliport, and Treize was in the kitchen preparing brunch for the two of them. As the rich smells of the cooking food permeated through the apartment to the master bedroom, Wufei inhaled deeply and sighed contentedly. He would be with Treize on New Year's Eve, and as he had observed the previous day, that was the main thing.

After their meal Wufei dragged Treize out for a tour of the city. Wufei loved Paris and he hauled Treize around to all of his favourite landmarks, buildings and museums. They remained out for most of the day, finally turning their steps homeward only when Treize warned that they would soon have to begin preparing themselves for the ball, if they were to attend. Treize had stopped off at a nearby store to purchase further provisions for the next day, and Wufei continued up to their apartment on his own. He unlocked the unprepossessing street door and stepped off the busy main road into the quiet, fountained courtyard that fronted the 1860's building, and wondered, not for the first time, at the way in which the street noise was completely shut out at the mere closing of the street door. He crossed the cobbled courtyard, entered the building and ascended the stairs to the fourth floor, where the apartment was situated.

As soon as he entered the hall he knew that something was wrong. He froze in the doorway and looked around. Everything was as it was when they left, but his old gundam pilot training refused to die, and he was alert and ready as he walked through to the main living room. There was no sound, but an unfamiliar coat thrown across the arm of a chair confirmed his suspicions, as did the sudden sound of the plumbing as a water tap was turned on somewhere within the apartment. Thinking that perhaps somehow, inexplicably, Treize had returned to the apartment ahead of him, he walked boldly across the living room and out through the double doors that led to the corridor where the bedrooms were situated. As he stepped out, a head and shoulders emerged from one of the doorways and, to Wufei's utter surprise, Heero Yuy looked him calmly in the face and said,

"Ah Chang, you're back at last. You'd better hurry up and get ready or we going to be late. Duo has decided to wash his hair however, so there won't be any hot water left."

The head and shoulders then retreated back into the bedroom and the door closed. Before Wufei could collect his wits, he distinctly heard another voice calling from behind a door on the opposite side of the corridor:-

"Trowa, I think they're back."

The door was pulled open a second later and Quatre Winner came bustling out and threw his arms around Wufei, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

When he had collected his wits sufficiently to ascertain how the very last people on earth he had expected to see had suddenly appeared while he was out and taken over his apartment, Wufei sank down into a Louis XVI armchair and blinked back tears. Heero, Duo, Quatre and Trowa were all seated in the living room, and had just finished explaining to him how Treize had telephoned them the evening before, telling them that he was attempting to arrange a surprise for Wufei and asking whether they would be at liberty to assist. Both couples had acquiesced, had cancelled all plans and had set out immediately, flying overnight in order to make it to Paris in time to attend the Ball.

"I can't believe that you would all do this, just for me." He said with a quavering voice.

"Wu, we'd do anything for you." Duo replied.

"As would I, my pet." At the sound of Treize's voice Wufei flew out of his seat and fairly launched himself into his husband's arms as he stepped into the room, supplanting the bags of groceries, which Treize was compelled to drop. As Wufei thanked him brokenly he said in a whisper audible only to the overwhelmed ex-pilot, "As I said, whatever my Wufei wants, my Wufei gets. Happy Hogmanay1, my sweet."

1 Scotch term for the last day of the year.

7


	25. Alpine Amethyst

Alpine Amethyst

(Chatper 25 of the 'Contemplation Indigo' series)

By DRL

Trowa read to the end of the page, shifted position slightly, then glanced up at the clock. Quatre should be home soon. He turned the page and continued reading. A minute later, he heard the library door open. He looked up again, uncurled his long legs from where they had been folded beneath him, closed his book and laid it aside, then rose, ready to greet...

"Cathy!" He exclaimed in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?" He enfolded his sister in his arms, giving her a warm hug that lifted her off her feet.

"Hi there little brother." Catherine Bloom-Somerville hugged her younger sibling back enthusiastically. When he eventually released her she held him at arms length, her hands on his shoulders. "Let me look at you." She said, looking him up and down minutely. "You look great." She concluded, and hugged him again. Trowa was concerned to notice that he was not able to say the same. Her immaculately applied make-up failed to hide the careworn lines around her mouth, the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the hollows in her cheeks or the sallowness of her complexion. At a glance she looked just like a well-put-together, fashionable young woman, but Trowa knew her well, and he knew better.

"What are you doing here?" Trowa asked again, when they had parted for the second time, "And where is..."

"Is Quatre not here?" Catherine asked as she perched on the edge of an armchair and looking around the library. She had deliberately, if somewhat clumsily, cut through Trowa's question and her brother eyed her narrowly.

"No, he's out with Duo Maxwell. Heero's out of town on business and Duo was feeling a bit lonely, so Quatre took him away for a few days."

"That was good of him. Where did they go?" Catherine asked.

"To a spa for a weekend of pampering." Trowa replied. Catherine laughed.

"A weekend away with Duo Maxwell? From what I recall of him, I think you should be very worried. Are you sure Quatre is still alive?"

"Just about." Trowa replied. "I spoke to him about half an hour ago and he said he was on his way home. In fact, when you came in, I thought it was him."

"Ahh, that explains the shining eyes and adoring smile," Catherine said good-naturedly, "And there I was thinking that it was meant for me." Trowa coloured slightly, but said nothing. "So why didn't you go with them?" She asked. Again Trowa said nothing, he merely raised an eloquent eyebrow.

"Have you eaten?" He asked, suddenly remembering his duties as a host. "Cat and I had planned to have dinner together so I was waiting for him to come back, but if you're hungry now..." Catherine shook her head.

"No, I'm not hungry." She said.

Trowa nodded. Somehow he didn't think she would be. He looked searchingly at her, holding her qaze until she looked away.

"What's wrong, Cathy?" He asked gently. "No," He added quickly, "Let me guess. Matt." She looked back at him with a weak smile.

"Is it as obvious as all that?" She asked.

"Cathy, you turn up here out of a blue sky, alone and without your husband. You offer no explanation as to where he is and you sidestep questions when asked. Further to that, you look pale, drawn and thin. Yes, you could say that it was a tad obvious that there is something wrong." Catherine looked helplessly at Trowa, then her face crumpled as she buried it in her hands, her shoulders convulsed with sobs.

Trowa rose, knelt before her and held her in his arms gently. It was not for long. Catherine was mistress of herself within a few short minutes, and shrugging off Trowa's embrace, proceeded to rummage briskly through her handbag in search of a handkerchief. She failed to find one, but she found instead a powder compact, which she opened, holding it up to her face to check her reflection.

"I'm sorry," She said as she took the feathered puff delicately beween her fingers and dabbed lightly at her forehead, nose, chin and beneath her eyes, "Although I guess that answers your question." She studied her reflection once more before signifying her satisfaction by closing the compact with a decisive snap.

Trowa resumed his seat and regarded her closely. Like himself, his sister was very private and not one to show emotion lightly, but now that she had, it would appear callous and unfeeling of him not to enquire after the source. Well not exactly the source; this he knew well enough. What he didn't know was the nature of the disagreement this time.

Catherine's husband Matthew was a man that Trowa despised. He was not usually given to such strongly negative emotion, but Matt was awarded special dispensation. By the time Trowa had met him for the first time, Catherine and he were already engaged to be married. Their courtship had been swift and Catherine had sought Trowa out to invite both he and Quatre to the wedding and to ask Trowa to give her away. The initial meeting had been at a restaurant, and during the meal Trowa's doubts regarding his prospective brother-in-law germinated and took root. There was nothing he could put his finger on at that time, and he magnanimously allowed that Matt's constantly returning to the subject of how great it must be for himself and Quatre to have the means to afford anything their little hearts desired was bad manners only in their eyes, not in his. However, it was when he gave a derisive snort when Quatre pointed out that the money did not actually drop like rain from the heavens, but that Trowa and he did in fact work very hard to earn it.

"Yes, but it's not like real work, is it?" He said dismissively, and Trowa caught the stunned look of pain that crossed the blond's features, and his dislike of the man set in hard. Fiercely protective of

his husband as he was, while he was realistic enough to know that he couldn't shield him from all of life's little unpleasantness's, to hurt Quatre was to incur Trowa's lifelong enmity.

Matt seemed to treat Catherine well enough however, although Trowa doubted whether his feelings ran as deeply as love. While he admitted that he was far from an expert on the subject, he flattered himself that he knew a man in love when he met one, and Matt did not strike him as such.

Trowa's dislike of Matt was not solely due to his deprecating behaviour towards Quatre. He had, over the short time he had had to get to know the man, formed the distinct impression that he was after Catherine's money. She had purchased a stake in the circus that both she and Trowa had once performed in, and had been instrumental in turning it from a nice family event, featuring lion-tamers, trapeze artists and clowns, to a full-blown extravaganza, with breathtakingly spectacular acts, beautifully staged, with magnificent costumes, dazzling light displays and full orchestral musical accompaniment. Her foresight, vision and sound business acumen had made her a tidy fortune, and as uncharitable as the thought was, Trowa was sure that Matt was more interested in this fortune than in his sister. He kept his reservations to himself and never discussed the matter with Catherine until she raised the issue herself.

"Trowa," She had asked as they enjoyed a nightcap together a week or so before the wedding. "Why don't you like Matt?" Trowa made a concerted effort not to choke on the mouthful of scotch and soda he was in the process of swallowing, and looked at her.

"I've never said I didn't like him." He said lamely.

"You didn't have to say it," She replied, but with good humour, "It's written all over your face every time I mention his name. Come on, out with it!" She urged, then added in a lowered voice, "Is it because he upset Quatre? I've warned him about that - it won't happen again."

Trowa, who was somewhat crestfallen to discover that he was not as good at hiding his emotions and feelings as he once was, decided that he owed his sister the truth. Catherine had been quite right in stating that her fiancé would not upset Quatre again, only he did not require his sister's assistance in ensuring this. However, the iron entered his soul as he thought once again of Matt's sarcasm and derision towards Quatre, and his reply was sharper than it might otherwise have been.

"Actually," He said tersely, "I think he's nothing but a gold-digger and he's nowhere near good enough for you." To his complete surprise, Catherine smiled warmly at this.

"Well, little brother, I daresay you would never think any man was good enough for me." She said, having completely failed to acknowledge or comment on the first part of his statement. "But," She added, as she patted his cheek fondly, "Don't think I'm not touched."

The wedding went ahead as planned and Trowa, with a face as blank as newly milled paper, gave his sister away to a man he hated. He had made a final last-minute plea to Catherine and had succeeded in persuading her to insist upon a pre-nuptial agreement. The hastily drafted document decreed that each party, in the event of a split, would take away from the marriage whatever they brought to it, and anything further had to be by mutual agreement. Neither party signed particularly willingly but sign they did, and with that Trowa had to be content.

That had been almost three years ago and it gave Trowa absolutely no pleasure in having been proved right. Matt did not disappoint. He soon developed a greater interest in the things his wife could obtain for him than in his wife herself, while for Catherine, the scales fell from her eyes within a period of equally short duration. The couple now lived together on terms of mutual antipathy.

"What has he done this time?" Trowa asked, and he hoped he didn't sound too weary. Catherine shook her head.

"No," She said decisively, "I don't want to talk about Matt. Hell, I don't even want to think about Matt. Let's talk about you. It's been so long since we've had a natter - tell me all you news. Where did you say Quatre and Duo had gone?" Trowa eyed Catherine narrowly, but he did not question her rapid change of subject. She would get round to it in time

"They went to Champreys for the weekend. They went off to get thoroughly pampered." Catherine snorted in good-natured derision.

"Champreys?" She said, "Why would Quatre go all the way to Champreys to get pampered when he has you here to pamper him every day?" Trowa gave a small smile.

"It was more for Duo than Quatre really." He said. "Heero will be back tomorrow and Duo thought it would be a good idea to get himself all primped and pretty in time for his return."

"And in the process, Quatre receives a similar treatment?" Catherine asked wryly. Trowa looked at her with a perfectly straight face.

"Quatre is always primped and pretty." He said.

The shrill sound of the telephone bell rent the air, and Trowa quickly snatched up the receiver.

"Hello?" He barked into the mouthpiece.

"Trowa...? Heero. Where's Duo?" Heero's voice came across the wire with his usual lack of preamble.

"I'm fine Heero, and how are you?" Trowa said levelly.

"Where is he Trowa?" Heero asked again, and Trowa caught the tension in his voice.

"He's with Cat; they've gone away for the weekend. Where are you?"

"At home - where else would I be?" Came the irritated reply.

"Well," Trowa casually, "You have been out of town for two weeks, and you weren't expected back until tomorrow, so it's not such an unreasonable question."

"Yes," Heero demurred, "Yes, of course. It's just that I tried him at home and at the studio, to no avail, and I think his cell is switched off. I was just a little... anxious - I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Trowa said dismissively. "I know what's probably happened though." He added. "Champreys is supposed to be a retreat for rest and relaxation, which means that cellphones are prohibited. They should be on their way home now but Duo most probably forgot to switch his phone back on. Don't forget, he's not expecting you back until tomorrow."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right." Heero agreed, but to Trowa's ears he still sounded far from convinced, and he smiled at the thought of the other man imagining his husband bound and gagged in the basement, while Trowa spun him a placatory yarn.

"I have to hang up now Heero - Catherine's here with me."

"Catherine, your sister? How is she? Heero asked.

"She's well and she sends her regards." As he said this Trowa turned to Catherine and raised an eyebrow interrogatively. She nodded vigorously in assent at the sentiments expressed on her behalf.

After a few more pleasantries Trowa replaced the receiver and resumed his seat.

"That was Heero," He explained redundantly, "He was just wondering where Duo was." Catherine laughed.

"Yes, I could hear him 'wondering' from here. Worried about him, was he?" She asked.

"Just a bit." Trowa replied dryly. "He tries not to show it though." Catherine smiled.

"That Heero Yuy is such a paradox," She said, settling back into her chair. "He's as hard as nails about most things, but when it comes to Duo Maxwell, he's about as tough as a jelly." It was Trowa's turn to laugh.

"I'll be sure to tell him you said so." He said. "I guess he is a little protective of Duo; but then, Duo is his husband." Trowa said, as if this explained everything.

"The last time I saw the two of them they were either at each other's throats or couldn't keep their hands of each other by turns. Are they still that passionate?"

Trowa's lips quirked introspectively as he recalled the couple's leave-taking ten days earlier. Trowa's own driver had driven Heero to the shuttleport, but as was his wont, Heero refused to let Duo accompany him. He always insisted that he preferred to say goodbye in private, rather than at the boarding gate of a shuttleport departure lounge. Trowa noted that Heero's notion of privacy clearly did not include himself and Quatre, because he and Duo took their rather passionate, somewhat X-rated leave of each other while their friends looked on in amusement.

"Oh yes." He said mildly.

"I love those two," Catherine continued, "But Heero Yuy frightens me a little."

"Heero's alright." Trowa said briefly. "He just cultivates that gruff exterior to discourage people from attempting to get close to him. When Heero wants people close to him, he tends to let them know." Catherine gave a little shudder.

"He's too cold for me." She said with a grimace. "But Duo's really sweet. He's so lovely and Heero's so..." She forbore to comp1ete the statement, but continued in a musing, contemplative tone, as though not really addressing her remarks to Trowa, but somehow to herself. "They are as different as chalk and cheese, but somehow they make the relationship work. What is it, I wonder?" The question was clearly rhetorical and Trowa made no attempt to offer a response. "They love each other very deeply, for all they fight like cat and dog. They would do anything for each other." Her eyes suddenly unglazed and focussed on Trowa. "And how is Wufei?" Trowa was completely unperturbed by the change of tack.

"Oh he's fine." He replied smoothly.

"Is he feeling better now?" She asked, obviously concerned. "He told me at his wedding that he had recovered from his eye operation, but I heard soon after that he still wasn't too well - that he'd had a brain haemorrhage or something."

"Something like that." Her brother replied briefly.

"So it _**was**_ true. But I've spoke to you a dozen times since and you never said a word. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry Catherine but I couldn't. Wufei wanted it kept quiet, and Treize did too." Trowa shrugged. "My lips were sealed - I'm sorry."

"Yes but..." Catherine's jaw worked soundlessly as she groped in vain for a valid argument, "All the same..." Eventually she gave it up. "Oh well, I suppose you're right." She conceded. "But he's okay now?" She asked and eyed him narrowly, as if having once held out on her, he was no more to be trusted.

"Yes, he's fine." Trowa reassured her. He deliberately omitted to mention the Chinese ex-pilot's ongoing battle with depression. It was not something that was ever discussed between the five friends, although they all knew what lay behind Wufei's sometimes erratic behaviour and sudden mood swings. "He's been given a clean bill of health."

"Good," She said with feeling, "That's good. Now _**there's**_ another odd couple." She said, cocking her head to one side contemplatively. "I wonder how they ever got together." She mused. Once again Trowa took her statement as rhetorical, and made no reply. Not expecting any, she went on in monologue mode. "They seem to be very happy together too, don't they?" She gave a light laugh. "I remember once - at that dinner where Quatre was sick and you had to take him home - well I was at the table and so was Wufei. We had been up to dance, but my shoes were killing me so we sat down again before everyone else came back to the table. Well anyway, we sat down, and the people on the next table were talking. We weren't really listening to them - just talking amongst ourselves, but then we heard the name 'Treize Khushrenada'. Well, as you can imagine, our ears pricked up and we began listening. One woman had obviously pointed Treize out and asked who he was, and someone else had told her - this is where Wufei and I came in. The first woman then started saying how elegant and handsome he looked. This old duffer at their table wasn't having any of it though.

'Elegant and handsome?' Catherine boomed, affecting (quite successfully) the trumpeting voice and ponderous manner of a Regimental Sergeant-Major, 'The fellow's nothing but a popinjay, the pompous ass!'" She gave a peal of hearty laughter and Trowa noticed that for the first time since she had walked into the room, she was truly at ease.

"Well," She continued, "Wufei rounded on him and gave him such a dressing down that the poor man didn't know what had hit him. It was so funny, but sweet too, the way he leaped to his husband's defence. I remember thinking 'how he adores him'. "Anyway, she added suddenly, "I wonder what's happened to Quatre?"

That same thought had been steadily growing in Trowa's mind while his sister had been talking. It was only politeness that had prevented him from picking up the phone and dialling the blond's cell number. He was reluctant to give Catherine the impression that she did not have his full attention.

"I was kind of wondering that myself." He said with a worried frown. "He should have been home over an hour ago. Do you mind if I just try his cell?"

"No, of course not, go right ahead." She said emphatically, but as Trowa reached for the telephone receiver, the door opened. His hopeful smile dissolved as Heero Yuy entered the room. He nodded a perfunctory greeting to Trowa and crossed to Catherine, who rose to meet him.

"Catherine, lovely to see you." He said. He clasped her outstretched hands and drew her to him in order to bestow a brotherly peck on each rouged cheek.

"You too." She said with feeling.

She resumed her seat and Trowa, who had abandoned his attempt to contact Quatre for the moment, perched on the arm of her chair. The one he had vacated had been commandeered by Heero.

"So, what brings you home early?" He asked of his friend. "Did the take-over negotiations go okay?"

"Yes fine. The financial press will be full of it all by Monday." He waved a hand dismissively. "We finished the bulk of the dealing a day early. The lawyers didn't really need me there so I left them to it and went back home to my husband. I had hoped to surprise him. Have you heard from them?" Trowa shook his head.

"No, not since we last spoke. In fact, I was just about to call when you came in. I'll try them now." He rose and crossed to the telephone. As he picked up the receiver, Heero called to him from his seat.

"Is Duo coming back here with Quatre, or is he going straight home?"

"Quatre didn't actually say," The tall ex-pilot replied, "But Duo wasn't expecting you back and Cat did said that they wouldn't be having dinner before they left for home, so..."

Heero took Trowa's meaning perfectly. Now and again Duo accompanied Heero on his sometimes occasional and at others, quite frequent business trips, but not always. Duo didn't much mind being at home alone. Being of a sociable bent (much more so than his husband), he had cultivated many acquaintances in the luxury apartment block where they lived, and though his work as a conceptual artist left him with much free time, he rarely felt lonely during the workday. It was evenings and weekends when he felt Heero's absence, and at these times he felt it keenly. He especially hated mealtimes, and he frequently availed himself of Quatre & Trowa's hospitality and their company in the evenings. He was mindful of imposing on his friends who, of course, needed their own 'together' time, but he was constantly re-assured that his presence was no imposition and he gladly accepted their frequent, welcome invitations.

"He'll most likely be coming here then. Don't tell him that I'm here," He said quickly, "I can still surprise him."

"Okay." Trowa said. He dialled the number, but as he waited for the call to connect, he became aware of a commotion outside the door. "Oh, what now?" He said with exasperation, as he lowered the receiver. As if in answer, the door flew open, and Duo burst in.

"Where is he, where is he?" The braided man exclaimed, as his eyes scanned the room wildly. "Babe!" Duo shrieked as he spied his husband, still seated in the armchair. He crossed the room swiftly, dropped into Heero's lap, and proceeded to kiss him passionately.

Quatre, who had followed at a more sedate pace, was no less fervent in his joy at once again seeing his husband, lacking only the shrill cry. Instead, he crossed the room to where Trowa was still standing beside the telephone, although the instrument was now redundant, and he grasped the other's outstretched hands. They came together and their kiss was tender, yet burning. When they parted a short moment later, Quatre leaned back a little so that he could gaze into his husband's eyes then, with a fingertip, he lightly traced a line along the edge of Trowa's face, from his brow to his jaw line.

"Darling…" He said in a breathy whisper, and the single word conveyed all the love, longing and desire he felt for his husband. For Trowa there seemed little left to say. He took his beloved into his arms and kissed him again.

Catherine silently observed the scene, turning her gaze first to one couple, then the other. Then, as welling tears blurred her vision, she rose and left the room, un-noticed.

"So, what happened to you?" Trowa asked, watching as his sister removed her make-up. He had observed this process countless times in their days as circus performers, and he was amused to note that the procedure had not changed. Catherine applied a liberal coating of cold cream to her face, worked it in vigorously with her fingertips, then wiped away all traces of cream and make-up. The only deviation from the old days was that she now favoured a small, moist towelette instead of the puffs of cotton wool she used to use.

"Nothing," She replied, somewhat disingenuously, "I just had a headache, that's all."

"Bollocks!" Trowa ejaculated. Only rarely did he resort to expletives, but Catherine's sudden disappearance without explanation, and her subsequent non-appearance at dinner, bordered on rudeness. Furthermore, his sister's uncharacteristic behaviour since her unannounced arrival was beginning to stretch his patience.

Catherine had looked up at him, or rather his reflection in the mirror of the vanity as he watched her at her evening toilet, surprised at the sharpness of his tone. Now she lowered her gaze as she crumpled a soiled towelette in her hand and dropped it onto the vanity.

"What is it Cathy?" Trowa asked in a milder tone as he squeezed onto the vanity stool beside her and placed a solicitous arm about her shoulders. "What's the matter? Tell me." Catherine shunted up on the stool to make room for him, then she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Tro," She said with a heartfelt sigh, I've been a bit of a selfish bitch, haven't I?" Trowa's silence was eloquent. She continued. "First I descend upon you unannounced, then I slight you and your guests by disappearing without a word, then I boycott your dinner table. I'm really sorry about that; I'll apologise to Quatre in the morning. The fact is, I came here for something in particular, but when I got what I wanted, I couldn't handle it, so I left." Trowa's brows drew together quizzically and he shot her a questioning glance in the mirror. She smiled bitterly. "Love, Tro - I came here to find love..." As her brother looked even more confused, she went on. "…or at least, to observe it." She looked up and smiled tightly.

"You and Quatre are so sweet together and so much in love with each other. Have you any idea what a delight it can be to be with the two of you? You both seem so happy to be alive and to be with each other, and somehow it rubs off. You make people around you feel happy too. Do you know that?" Trowa looked into the mirror at her, surprised, and not a little embarrassed by her words. "Even Matt said so to me once, although he couldn't quite appreciate it. We were staying here with you about a year back, during one of our many abortive reconciliations." As she said this she rolled her eyeballs heavenward in an expression of infinite weariness. "As we were preparing for bed one night he said, 'Have you noticed how there always seems to be such a miasma of happiness around those two?' meaning you and Cat. I was really surprised, and I was just about to tell him how sweet it was of him to notice and to say so, when he added 'makes you sick, doesn't it?" Catherine fell silent.

"What did you say to that?" Trowa queried.

"Nothing." She replied glumly. "I was way too upset and angry with him to trust myself to say anything." Trowa made a non-committal sound of acknowledgement. They sat in companionable silence for a while.

"Cathy," Trowa said at length, "If you're that unhappy, why don't you... well..." He broke off, suddenly too mealy-mouthed to voice what was in his mind - unthinkable for him, but the last resort for many.

"Divorce him?" Catherine supplied. She gave a bitter laugh. "It's too late for that."

"I don't see why?" Trowa said reasonably. "You both signed the agreement so you could just go your separate ways."

"Oh Trowa," Catherine sighed, "If only it were as simple as that. You see, I'm going to have a baby." Trowa gasped in surprise, then he beamed broadly.

"Congratulations Cath, that's wonderful." He tightened the arm around her shoulders affectionately. Then he stiffened. "It is Matt's baby, isn't it?" He asked.

Catherine roughly shrugged his arm from her shoulders, turned to look directly at him, no longer content merely to observe him through the mirror, and favoured him with a look that could have curdled milk.

"What do you take me for?" She spat, "Of course it's Matt's baby"

"Well I don't know." Trowa replied defensively. "The way things are between you, no-one would blame you if..." He shrugged. She gave him a withering look.

"I'm a married woman." She said loftily. Trowa did not pursue the matter. Suddenly his eyes widened as a thought struck him.

"Oh my god, that means I'm going to be an uncle!" His sister regarded him with a wrinkled brow.

"But surely Quatre's sisters have hundreds of kids. You're already an uncle several times over."

"Yes that's true," Trowa agreed, "But this one will be different - this one will be... blood." She lowered her gaze and chewed her lower lip nervously.

"Trowa," She said at length, "I'm considering a termination. In fact, I think I've made my decision." Her eyes locked with his - steady and defiant. Trowa, fighting hard to mask the horror he felt at her words, knew better than to challenge her. Keeping his expression neural, he asked a question.

"And what does Matt have to say about it?" She looked away from him once more.

"Matt doesn't know." She murmured. Suddenly Trowa understood everything.

"And you have no intention of telling him." He made it a statement. Catherine's eyes flashed angrily.

"You men are all the same." She hissed. "All you think about is propagating your genes – to hell with anything else." She stuck her chin out defiantly. "No, I don't intend to tell him. It's my decision, not his." Trowa's expression remained impassive and he said nothing, but Catherine's following statement was defensive - as though Trowa had accused her in some way. "What do you know about it Trowa?" She said brusquely. "You have no idea what it's like. It's bad enough for me but I don't want to bring a child into this strife. I want my child to be raised in a happy, loving environment, not in this…, this… war zone that is my marriage."

"But if you got rid of Matt..."

"No!" Catherine ejaculated in horror, "Never! I know that things often turn out that way, with people splitting up and things, but I can't set out on this road alone. I don't have the stamina or the inclination to be a single parent." She sighed heavily. "I always swore that when I had children I would give them the very best upbringing that I could. What kind of a mother would I be if I brought a child into the world, only to have him have to listen to me and Matt fighting all the time, or to have to make do with a part-time daddy that he sees only on every other weekend? I don't want that for my child." Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away as she looked at him with burning sincerity, willing him to understand her, to forgive her. "I may not make the best mother in the world Trowa, but I think I'd make a better one than that." With a benevolent smile, Trowa pulled her into a hug.

"You're going to make a wonderful mother." He said gently.

Trowa walked quickly along the passageway, eager to be back in his own bedroom where Quatre would no doubt be waiting for him. The little blond had been travelling for most of the day and Trowa hoped that he had not succumbed to fatigue while waiting for him. They had not been together for a few days and Trowa was rather keen to show his husband just how much he had missed him. As he hurried along the elevated gallery that separated the guest wing of the house from the one where the master suite was located, his lusty thoughts of the night of passion to come were rudely interrupted by the frenzied sound of fists pounding on wood. Trowa halted immediately, his body instantly tensed and ready for action. The pounding came again, this time with greater urgency.

The sound seemed to be emanating from the front doors. The balustraded gallery where Trowa was standing overlooked the cavernous entrance hallway, and he walked to the edge, leaned out over the balustrade and peered down. The double front doors were solid oak, but there were glazed panels let into the framework at either side. The motion sensors outside had clearly been triggered since the exterior lights were illuminated and the entire porch area was flooded with light. Through the glazed panels Trowa could see a figure, and as he watched, the figure cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in.

Recognising the nocturnal visitor, Trowa quickly descended the staircase, crossed the marbled hall and threw open the door. The visitor stood on the threshold, arm raised, ready to rain another succession of blows upon the door.

"Oh Trowa! I didn't expect to see you."

"This _**is**_ my house Matt. What are you doing here, and why are you beating down my door?" Matt Somerville gave a tight, apologetic smile.

"I er… I didn't want to wake the house, so I um… I thought I wouldn't ring the bell." Trowa regarded his despised brother in law coolly.

"So you decided on beating down the front door instead, which, if course, is much less likely to wake the house."

"Sorry." Somerville said contritely. Trowa said nothing, but stepped back to allow him to enter.

As the other man stepped past him, Trowa took a good look at the man who was causing his sister such anguish. He was undeniably good looking - Trowa conceded this much. He was dressed in blue jeans (that fitted rather snugly, Trowa noted), a white t-shirt, equally as snug, and a ridiculous pair of cowboy boots, with silver caps at the tips of the exaggeratedly pointed toes. The close-fitting clothes Trowa was used to. Matt had a perfect body, tightly sculpted and neatly muscled, honed by hours of gym work ('just about the only work he ever did', Trowa thought sourly), and he liked to show the fruit of his labour. If Trowa had seen those well-rounded pects bulging out from a straining t-shirt once, he'd seen them a hundred times. He noted, with satisfaction, that Matt had no luggage with him which, he noted, was an indication that he would not be staying long.

"What are you doing here?" Trowa asked again. He drew up his shirtsleeve and looked pointedly at his watch. "It's a bit late in the day for a social call." Somerville drew himself up.

"I want to see Catherine." He declared with assertion. "And don't bother to tell me she's not here. I know she is." Trowa arched an eyebrow.

"I wasn't going to say any such thing." He replied calmly. "Yes, she is here, but she's gone to bed. She's probably asleep by now."

"That's okay," Somerville made as if to walk past Trowa and on towards the staircase, "She won't mind if I wake her." Trowa sidestepped neatly into the other man's path, effectively blocking his progress.

"I don't think so." He said, his voice still even, but with an unmistakeable note of steel. "I'm sure whatever you have to say can wait until tomorrow." Somerville frowned.

"But you don't understand," He blustered, sudden flustered at finding himself challenged, "I have to speak to her. You see, I found…, I have to stop..." He ceased his stuttered half-sentences and flushed slightly. "Well er, it's a private matter," He coughed discreetly, "But it's desperately urgent. I can't afford any delay. In fact," He added, crestfallen, "It might already be too late."

The utter helplessness of his brother-in-law's expression softened Trowa. He smiled knowingly, and placing a brotherly arm about the other man's shoulders, propelled him towards the staircase.

"I'll show you up." He said.

25


	26. Hybrid Opal

Hybrid Opal

By

DRL

Chapter 26 of Contemplation Indigo

Heero kicked the already-ajar bedroom door open wider, and elbowed his way into the room.

"Get it while it's hot!" He announced, as he crossed to the bed and set down the heavily-laden tray. Duo looked around with a lascivious smirk.

"It's always hot." He said and he waggled his eyebrows ridiculously.

Heero clicked his tongue, but without any real rancour. He cleared a space on the bed, which was littered with the Sunday broadsheets, along with their ubiquitous colour supplements, and arranged himself carefully, mindful of the breakfast tray he had just set down. From his recumbent position - back against the headboard supported by a pillow, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles, he interlaced his fingers behind his head and watched as his husband helped himself from the foodstuffs on the tray.

Carefully and methodically, as if he were conducting a scientific experiment, the braided man took a pancake from the pile on the tray and placed it upon his plate. Then he took a second and placed it beside the first, cut a portion of butter and spread it over the surface of the first pancake, then poured a generous helping of syrup over the second. He then, (and this never failed to raise a smile from Heero) attempted to sandwich the two pancakes while maintaining both intact and trying to keep the fillings from dripping. Heero had watched Duo perform this pantomime many, many times, over the years they had known each other. He had never suggested it and the thought had clearly not occurred to his husband, but Heero wondered yet again why Duo did not simply pick up the pancake that had been buttered and put it on top of the other, thereby making his required pancake sandwich, with no loss of filling, and no pancake damage. Instead, the braided man always focussed on the syruped pancake, which invariably stuck to the plate, or otherwise disintegrated whenever he attempted to place it on top of the buttered pancake. Heero forbore to make the suggestion on this occasion also, content to watch and stifle any laughter that bubbled to the surface.

Duo made quite a success of his sandwich this time all things considered, and Heero suppressed the urge to break into a round of applause. Instead, concluding that it was unlikely to kill him, he served himself up a pancake, smeared it with butter and drizzled on some syrup. As he ate he watched Duo, allowing his eyes to roam across the other man's naked body.

Duo was lying face-down on the bed, top-to-tail with Heero, legs crooked at the knees and feet crossed at the ankles. He supported his upper body on his elbows as he slowly turned the pages of a large, hardcovered book. In this position, Heero thought, his husband looked just like the schoolboy he was at heart, despite his thirty years. His eyes travelled along Duo's well-turned ankles and shapely calves, along the backs of his muscular thighs, up and over the pert, smooth mounds of his buttocks, and through the valley formed by his spine. As Heero watched, Duo absently speared forkfuls of pancake and lifted them to his mouth, masticating and swallowing mechanically as he gave his undivided attention to the tome lying open on the bed before him. He suddenly became aware of Duo's periodic muttering.

"Shit! Who'd wanna do that?" He said in a murmured undertone. Then Heero heard, "Ouch! That's gotta hurt!"

His curiosity was piqued. Duo was not much of a reader, and Heero was intrigued to know what book it was that had so captured his husband's attention.

"Duo..." He said, his voice at a conversational level. The other man continued eating and turning pages, content in his own little world of book and breakfast. "Duo!" Heero said again, raising his voice a little and this time he reached out a hand and ran it lightly along his husband's elevated calf. Duo raised his eyes from his book and looked behind him to where Heero was seated. His eyebrows were raised in enquiry.

"What?" He asked.

"What's that book you're reading?" Heero asked.

Duo carefully marked his page with a bookmark made from a strip of heavy, ivory-coloured linen, beautifully decorated with needlepoint flowers in brightly coloured silks, closed the book and handed it to Heero. He then shifted his position on the bed, taking care not to upset the tray of foodstuffs, so that he now sat cross-legged, facing Heero. Heero took the book, but his eyes were trained at Duo's crotch where his husband's cross-legged posture exposed his bare genitals to Heero's gaze quite nicely. Telling himself to hold that thought, he inspected the book's dust-jacket, reading the title.

"'Encyclopaedia of Unusual Sex Practices'..."He read aloud, slowly and deliberately. He raised his eyes and fixed Duo with a wry look. The other man nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it's really interesting." He said. "It tells you about all sorts of weird stuff. Look, it has pictures too".

"Duo, where on earth did you find an encyclopaedia of sex?" Heero asked.

"No, not sex, 'Unusual Sex Practices'." Duo reached out a hand and ran a finger under the words as he uttered them, by way of illustration.

"Same difference." Heero muttered sotto voce. "So, where did you find it?" He asked as he studied the cover of the book, turning it over to inspect the back of the dust-jacket.

"You know that big new bookshop in town - the one that used to be Stimpsons, you know, with the curved windows out front?" Heero nodded. "Well I went in there yesterday to get some coffee, and I got to browsing amongst the shelves. I came across it and I thought it might be interesting, so I bought it." Heero looked at him with a puzzled frown.

"You went to a bookshop to get coffee?" He asked.

"Sure," Duo replied briskly, "There's a Starbucks in the basement."

"Of course there is." Heero said in a voice dripping with irony. "I'm sure there'll soon be a Starbucks on the moon." He rearranged the pillows at his back and shifted his position a little. Then he settled back, opened the book, selected an entry at random and began reading aloud.

"'HYBRISTOPHILIA – Hybristophilia is a paraphilia of the marauding/predatory type in which sexuoteric arousal and facilitation and attainment of orgasm are responsive to, and dependent upon, being with a partner known to have committed an outrage or crime, such as rape, murder, or armed robbery…' Hmmm, doesn't say anything about terrorism." Heero muttered. He turned a few more pages and read again. "'MUCOPHAGY – Mucophagy, consuming nasal mucosa, is done as a matter of course in nasolingus. Others may engage in mucopaghy because of the implied self degradation, or simply the novelty of it. Like consumption of other body secretions, mucophagy can be used to demonstrate total acceptance and love of a partner. (See also COCKTAILS, COPROPHAGY, UROPHILIA and VAMPIRISM)"

As Heero read, Duo moved round to sit beside him, snuggled into his side and rested his head on his shoulder. Heero paused in his reading and smiled down at the braided man. This was a nice way to spend a Sunday morning - breakfast in bed and a snuggle with his husband. Much as he was loath to admit it, he actually enjoyed a good snuggle as much as Duo did. Today he particularly appreciated it, since there had been something of an East wind blowing between Duo and he for the past day or so, and Heero took it as confirmation that all was well again between them.

As was usual, the actual cause of the disagreement was something and nothing. Heero had arrived home from his office on Friday evening in a foul temper and spoiling for a fight. Duo, in none too clever a mood himself, was more than happy to oblige, and they spent the evening hurling insults and crockery at each other. They spent the night in separate bedrooms, and the next day, Saturday, they each kept to themselves and pursued their own, individual diversions.

The breach was healed at least in part when they both, independently, fetched up at the Barton-Winner mansion in the afternoon, Duo just to 'shoot the breeze' with Quatre and Heero in response to a summons from Trowa in connection with the engine of an early model Aston Martin he was in the process of restoring. Quatre and Trowa went to work on the pair of them and by dinner time the frost had thawed sufficiently to allow them to sit at the dinner table together without squabbling. They travelled home in the separate vehicles they had arrived in and Duo went straight to bed. Not wanting to allow the sun to set on his wrath a second time, Heero undressed and slipped into bed beside him. Thus they returned to sharing a bed, if no more than that.

They had fallen asleep at opposite edges of the vast bed, their backs to each other, but Heero had awoken in the early hours of the following morning to find Duo's limbs entwined with his and the other man's head resting on his chest. Duo woke shortly afterwards and the two of them were soon fondling and kissing each other passionately, and from there to making wild, torrid love was but a short step. Spent and tired, they fell asleep again, and when again they woke, Heero decided to treat Duo to his favourite breakfast, served in bed.

"So what, think you'd like to try it?" Duo asked as he shifted against Heero, the better to see the book's pages. "I'll consume any of your bodily secretions you care to name if it will convince you of my total acceptance and love." Heero gave a derisive snort.

"Absolutely not!" He said with feeling. "Not that, but perhaps..." He leafed slowly through the book. Duo, his interest piqued, sat up a little and looked at Heero, his eyes bright with mischief.

"Perhaps what?" He asked. Heero silently turned page after page, making no reply. "What?" Duo asked testily, giving Heero's arm a playful swat. "What is it you wanna try?" He lowered his voice suggestively. "You know I'm game for anything."

Heero smiled enigmatically across at him and, turning back to the book, continued to read. Duo settled back against Heero's side, his head on the other man's shoulder. Heero reached out an arm and snaked it around Duo's shoulders, drawing him close. He crooked his legs at the knees, rested the book against his thighs and read on, turning the pages with his free hand. Duo, content to relinquish his book to his husband, closed his eyes.

Looking round at Duo some time later, Heero noticed his lowered eyelids and even breathing, and chewed his lower lip guiltily. He had become so engrossed in the book that Duo had succumbed to ennui while patiently waiting for a scrap of attention, and had dozed off. Hastily dog-earing a page, he closed the book, laid it on the nightstand and rose, taking care to prop Duo up against the pillows as he did so. He padded silently towards the bathroom and as he walked one violet eye - wide, bright and fully alert - slid open and watched him retreat.

---------------------------------

"Thank god for Sunday trading." Duo sighed as he loaded his purchases into the boot of his car. Some of the things he needed could definitely be called 'specialist' items and there was a time, way back in Duo's youth now (although he usually pushed all such thoughts to the back of his mind), when Sunday was taken seriously as a day of rest and such things could not be purchased on a Sunday for love nor money.

He had taken his time browsing the stores and had even taken the opportunity to get in some groceries for the coming week. He had plenty of time, since Trowa would keep Heero occupied for a few hours yet. He had surreptitiously phoned the green-eyed ex-pilot that morning while Heero was in the shower, and had told him that he needed Heero out of the way for an hour or so that afternoon. His friend was more than happy to oblige and half an hour later he telephoned back and casually asked Heero to pop round a little later to give his assistance with the Aston Martin again. With Heero thus occupied (and having assured him several times that no, he didn't want to come along too), Duo set about making good use of the time he had gained.

-----------------------------------------

Heero left the Barton-Winner mansion in a carefree mood. He had spent an enjoyable afternoon tinkering with the engine of the old car with Trowa, then enjoyed an excellent meal with him and Quatre, and was now heading for home in fine spirits. As he drove his thoughts turned to Duo and he frowned. When Trowa had phoned to invite him over, Heero had immediately extended the invitation to Duo and had been surprised when he had refused, saying,

"No it's alright, you go ahead. I want to work on a piece in the studio. You might as well have dinner with them too," He had added, "I don't know when I'll be finished."

Heero had been surprised, but not unduly concerned that Duo had declined to accompany him. Duo's fits of creative inspiration were compelling and they had seen Quatre and Trowa only yesterday, so Duo's decision to spend his Sunday at work in his studio instead of with Heero and their friends caused in Heero a raised eyebrow, but little more.

He let himself into the apartment... and stopped short. The entrance lobby, as well as one or two other spaces in the apartment, was fitted with reactive lighting but, contrary to his expectations, the area did not flood with light as he entered. It was lit however, albeit dimly, by the flickering light of a tall, white, church candle, mounted on a saucer-shaped holder that had been placed in the centre of a console table. He looked towards the vast, open-plan living space and saw that this too was in darkness, but he detected the orange glow and undulating movement of candlelight here also. Oh ho, he thought, Duo was up to some devilment and there was sex at the back of it, or he didn't know his man.

He walked confidently into the living room, his progress by no means inhibited by the subdued lighting, for Duo had been economical with his candles, and only one was used to illuminate the entire space, with the result that most of it was thrown into shadow. However, this was Heero's home and he was familiar enough with the layout that he could have found his way blindfolded, without the least difficulty.

Whatever Duo had been planning was clearly going to take place upstairs because a candle had been placed on each stair leading up to the upper level of the duplex. There were two of these stairwells - one on either side of the living room - and what puzzled Heero, as he dutifully climbed the stairs, was that the stairwell he was ascending was not the one that led to their bedroom. As he reached the top of the stairs he saw that the open doorway of one of the guest bedrooms was emanating a brilliant gleam into the dark companionway. He took a deep breath then headed straight for it.

As he stepped into the room he gasped in wonder. The room was brilliantly lit, as though by fluorescent lights, but once again the only light source was candles. The room was large, but sparsely furnished and an entire corner of it was given over to candles. A myriad of cool-white, wax pillars, each topped with a darting tongue of flame, lending the room an ambience and atmosphere that it certainly did not possess in regular daylight. The candles - Heero estimated that there were at least one hundred of them, perhaps more - were all of equal breadth, but ranged in height from a few inches to several feet. They were strategically placed so that the taller ones stood at the back and the others spread out in front in a random but generally descending order of size. The effect was quite stunning and Heero stood motionless in the doorway, staring at the arrangement for some moments.

He noticed Duo sitting cross-legged on the floor a few feet from the sea of candles. As Heero's gaze fell upon him, Duo rose in one fluid movement and as he did so, Heero stared in wonder once again, but this time it was Duo's appearance that had roused him. His husband was dressed in a manner that Heero had never seen before, which is not to say that he had never imagined it, or fantasised about it. Their sex-life, while always spirited and imaginative, had never, in all their years together, involved... well, whatever it was that Duo appeared to be up to today.

He wore a pair of extremely brief, scandalously tight shorts that appeared to be made from leather. Either leather or rubber - Heero could not tell, but whatever material they were made from, Duo looked ravishing in them. They were cut very high on the leg and very low on the hip. As Heero peered closer he noticed the metal teeth of a zip. They held the shorts together at the groin, then disappeared between Duo's legs. Apart from the shorts, he wore very little else. A pair of boots, laced to mid-calf and a leather collar buckled around his throat completed the ensemble. Added to this (Heero peered closer), was that a touch of kohl around Duo's eyes, and yes, there was definitely a glossy, rosy tint to his lips that had nothing to do with mother nature.

As he sat on the floor Duo had been looking up at Heero as he regarded the candles, but an open book rested in his lap and he had obviously been using it to occupy himself while waiting. Heero glanced down at the book that was now in Duo's hand and his lips quirked as he read the title - 'Encyclopaedia of Unusual Sex Practices'. Heero realised that he was in for an interesting evening. Duo took a few steps towards him.

"I though you were never gonna get here." He said, as casually as if he were informing Heero that his dinner was in the oven, not standing semi-nude in a candlelit room. He held his arms out from his sides a little and spun lightly on the toes of his boots. "What do you think?" He asked.

As he spun, Heero noticed that Duo had arranged his hair differently also. Instead of his customary braid, his hair was caught up in a pony-tail placed high on the back of his head and held in place by a strip of leather fastened with a buckle, a smaller version of the collar around his neck. The ends were left free and unbraided. Heero was impressed with the entire ensemble, but he took a moment or two to savour the sight before him before confirming this.

"Heero…?" Duo chewed his lower lip, looking distinctly nervous. Heero smiled lasciviously.

"You look… stunning." He said in a low voice. It was all he could do not to unzip those shorts and take Duo right there on the guest bed. As Duo had given him a twirl a moment before, Heero had observed that the metal zipper of the shorts, which had seemed to disappear between Duo's legs, actually reappeared at the back, went all the way up, between the cheeks of his leather-clad buttocks to end at the waistband once more. In short, the only thing holding together the two halves of the only garment Duo was wearing was that little zip. As the possibilities of this mulled their way through Heero's mind, Duo began speaking again.

"Really?" He smiled happily, obviously relieved at Heero's approbation. "Good. I'm glad. I went to the store but I didn't really know what to buy. I saw that you'd marked a couple pages…" He raised the book slightly by way of clarification, "But I don't know all that much about this sort of stuff." As Heero wondered exactly what sort of 'stuff' Duo was talking about, he watched as the other man turned away and stalked towards the bed. He crossed half the distance, then turned round to look at Heero. "Come on." He said, and he held out his hand.

Heero advanced, took it and allowed himself to be led towards the bed. As puzzled as he was, he decided to just go along with whatever it was that Duo had in mind. He trusted his husband not to put him up for anything too dire (although thoughts of Brazilian waxing came rushing to the fore at that point). When they reached the bed Duo stopped, spun round to face Heero and used the hand still held to pull him close. Heero was no sluggard. He immediately released Duo's hand and, placing both of his on Duo's buttocks, pulled him closer still, their bodies pressed tightly together. Leather - the fabric of Duo's shorts was definitely leather, and Heero relished the smoothness of the tightly-stretched hide beneath his fingers.

"Oh baby," Duo growled, "I see you're ready for me." With a swirl of his hips he ground his groin against Heero's. Heero was indeed ready.

As he regarded Duo dressed as he was, he had been growing more and more aroused, until he was now thinking more along the lines of unzipping his own trousers rather than Duo's. Pulling Duo even closer still, he lowered his mouth onto the other man's, and kissed him fiercely. Duo responded avidly, and ground his hips against Heero's once again. Then suddenly he broke the kiss and twisted out of Heero's grasp.

"Oh no you don't," He said playfully, "That's for later. For now, let's get these off you." He pulled Heero's shirt tails from the waistband of his trousers. "As I said," He said in a low purr, while he unbuckled Heero's belt, "I don't know much about this, but let's play it by ear."

He swiftly removed Heero's clothes, (batting Heero's hands away when he tried to assist), then stood before him with a wide grin. He looked down at Heero's semi-erect penis, raised his hands to his hair and quickly unbuckled the leather band that encircled his ponytail. The hair stayed in place, so the leather band had obviously served a merely aesthetic purpose. He re-buckled it around the base of Heero's penis so that it formed a cockring, then he grasped the organ gently and began pumping lightly.

"Babe, I have to do a couple things that you might be a bit uncomfortable with at first, but you hafta trust me, 'kay?" Duo stroked Heero's cheek with the fingertips of his free hand.

Heero frowned, but he nodded. He would trust Duo with his life and he had absolutely no qualms about trusting him, even though he had no idea what he had in mind. His frown was due to the fact that he was still wondering what exactly it was that Duo did have in mind.

"Great!" Duo said, and released his penis. "Now, lay down on the bed." Heero did so while Duo moved over to a darkened corner of the room, where the beams of candlelight did not quite reach. As he reappeared into the light, Heero blenched at the sight of the objects in his husband's hands.

"Don't look like that babe," Duo reassured him, "This is not what it looks like. I hafta use these because it will be better. Is that okay?"

Heero nodded again and refrained from screaming 'WHAT WILL BE BETTER?' The objects in Duo's hands appeared to be handcuffs, but the chain holding the cuffs together was at least a foot long, rather than the customary inch or two. The chain links were also much larger than was usual and the metal cuffs were cushioned with wadding covered with black velvet all along the inner edge.

"Duo, where did you say you went shopping today?" Heero asked as Duo disentangled the chains of the handcuffs. He had clearly purchased two pairs and Heero watched with mounting curiosity as one cuff from each pair was fastened around each of his wrists.

"Oh, you remember that fetish store we came across in Soho that day? The one with the big fist…?"

Heero swallowed hard. He remembered the store all too well. The fist Duo mentioned was a life-sized, latex model of a muscular forearm, with the hand balled into a fist, that they had come upon while browsing through the store's merchandise. The couple spent many minutes speculating as to why such a thing would ever be required, since any 'fetishists' finding themselves in need would undoubtedly have hands and arms of their own, which would make perfectly serviceable fists. As they were leaving the store Duo asked the assistant if anyone ever bought the fist.

"Sure, we sell loads of them. It's one of our biggest sellers." He enthused, and then offered them a substantial discount on one, since they were so interested. As Duo opened his mouth to respond, a hand inching towards his wallet, Heero fairly dragged him out of the store; he had seen the glint in his eye.

"… I got pretty much everything there, 'cept the candles – the big ones, anyway." Duo continued. As Heero recalled the other 'apparatus' on sale at the store, he nodded. Yes, his husband had been on a spree alright, and he wondered what other delights Duo had in store for him.

Duo fastened the free end of each pair of cuffs to each of the bedposts, so that Heero was tethered in a cruciform posture and as he did so Duo constantly reassured him that it was necessary, and that he was not to worry. He then returned to the darkened corner, and Heero held his breath as he wondered what Duo might emerge with this time. It was a blindfold. It looked just like a strip of black velvet fabric, but Heero knew what it was destined for by the apologetic look on the other man's face as he held it aloft so Heero could see.

"I hafta do this babe…" Duo began, but Heero smiled at him. "Just go for it." He said. Duo gave him a grateful smile and fastened the blindfold into place.

"Now," He said, and Heero felt the mattress move as Duo settled onto the bed beside him, "How do you feel? You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He said and he actually was, in a manner of speaking.

Duo was right about his not being particularly comfortable with the things he was about to do. He was none too keen on being restrained, and restrained and blindfolded was even worse. However, he actually felt quite relaxed, and if he was honest, a little aroused too (well, a little more aroused). He felt extremely vulnerable, being completely at Duo's mercy. He realised that Duo could do absolutely anything he wanted to him at this present moment – even slit his throat if he had a mind to – but he still felt perfectly at ease. He had thought that he had absolute trust in his husband, but this confirmed it and it made him feel contented.

"Good." He heard Duo whisper close to his hear, and his hot breath sent a shiver of excitement through Heero's body. "Now the fun starts."

He felt the movement of the mattress as Duo rose, and then silence fell. He felt himself straining to catch any slight sound, as a means of ascertaining what might be happening in the room, since he was incapable of seeing. He recalled Wufei explaining how strange it was not being able to see, just after he had undergone corneal transplant surgery and was still wearing shields on both eyes while he recovered. He recalled him saying how sexy he found it, not being able to see Treize when he kissed him.

"It could be just about anyone," He had said, "And that's part of the eroticism."

Heero found that he was looking forward to putting this to the test. If he had his hands free he would have pulled Duo in for a kiss right then and there…, but where was Duo? He strained his ears, but heard nothing. Then suddenly he felt something on his leg – something warm and moist. He jerked involuntarily and gave a startled cry, before realising that it was only Duo's tongue. Duo had drawn the tip of his tongue across the tattoo that Heero had recently commissioned. The tattoo, a scythe intertwined with the Roman numeral 'II' was on the inner thigh of his right leg and was an oblique reference to Duo. At Heero's start, Duo placed a quelling hand upon his thigh.

"Shhh," He whispered, "Just relax and feel the sensations."

He ran his tongue along the tattoo again, and this time Heero did as Duo suggested. He shivered with pleasure as Duo's tongue then travelled along the underside of his cock, along the centre of his stomach and then lightly across each nipple. Recalling again what Wufei had said about his sightless experiences, he realised that his Chinese friend was absolutely right. The other senses were heightened when the sense of sight was removed. Heero felt that his hearing was keener and his response to Duo's touch was much sharper than it usually was, and he was sure that this was due to the fact that he was not able to see. He had to admit that the experience was not at all unpleasant.

He felt Duo move off the bed again, then nothing happened for a moment or two. Suddenly, a strangled yelp escaped him as a jolt of pain shot through his chest. Reflexively, he tried to bring his hands to the point of pain, but his bonds prevented him from doing so, and the pain slowly dissipated.

"Duo!" He cried sharply, "What the hell are you doing? What was that?" He swivelled his head wildly on the pillow that Duo had thoughtfully placed beneath it at the start of the session, trying to place his husband's position.

"Shhh babe," Duo replied gently, and Heero immediately turned his head in the direction of his voice. "Calm down, just feel…"

Heero felt Duo's fingers gliding smoothly along his cheek, and despite the sensation in his chest, which was now just a mild smarting, he felt himself ease. Just as his breathing began to even out, he drew it in again in a sharp hiss as the pain shot through him again. This time though, he did as Duo suggested and instead of reacting to the initial feeling of pain, he took a moment to think about the actual sensation. He immediately realised that whatever it was that had caused the pain, the target areas had been his nipples. He hadn't realised this at first, but now he felt the residual smarting on both sides of his chest centred on his nipples. Again, the sensation, once the throb of the pain had subsided, was not unpleasant.

"How do you feel?" Duo asked.

"… okay." Heero replied after a momentary hesitation.

Again Heero hissed as the pain came once more, this time on his stomach, in a straight line from just below his belly-button, for a distance of about six inches.

"Shhh," Duo repeated in a mockingly censorious tone, "Don't make me have to gag you."

Heero bit back the sharp retort that sprang to his lips. He knew now what was happening. In reverse order, Duo was targeting the areas where his tongue had earlier been. He had also identified the pain – it was burning. He was being burned. He couldn't tell at first, but now the residual sensation was not pain but warmth – warmth enveloping the immediate area where the initial sharpness of the pain began. He also thought he knew what was causing the burning, and he held his breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut beneath his blindfold, because he knew the area that was next on the list. This time he suppressed the exclamation of pain that rose in his throat. The pain shot swiftly through his penis, quickly followed by the warmth. Yes, the warmth was definitely not an unpleasant sensation.

"Good babe," Duo murmured, "That's real good. Just lay there and feel…"

Heero felt, as Duo had suggested. His nipples and stomach had cooled now, and he could feel the incrustations of the molten wax that he was sure Duo had been pouring onto his body. Only this could have caused the sensations he had been feeling.

"What was that, candle wax?" He asked.

"Very good." Duo replied with a nod of approval that Heero couldn't see. "Are you ready for some more?"

Before Heero had even the chance to open his mouth for a response, he felt the heavy drops of more wax falling onto his cock, but this time only intense warmth resulted, rather than the painful heat of previously. His cock twitched as the warmth spread. He was not fully erect and Duo's first drops had fallen on the upper surface of his shaft. The second drops had fallen on the first, hence the warmth and absence of pain. Heero knew this because he felt the actual drops fall this time. He was shielded from the pain by the layer of cooling wax that had previously fallen. As he wallowed in the warmth that spread through his penis, he felt the drops as Duo poured the wax onto his stomach, then his nipples. The warmth that spread through his nipples was exquisite, and as he savoured this, his cock twitched once again. He was almost fully erect now. Duo gave a rich, throaty chuckle.

"Ah," He said, "You like that, I see." Heero felt Duo's tongue along the underside of his stiffening cock, then the weight of more drops of wax on his stomach.

The warmth from the droplets was barely discernible now, due to the layers of wax from Duo's previous applications, and Heero was conscious of a keen sense of disappointment. He found that he had been eagerly anticipating the concentrated warmth from the wax and the strong feeling of intense arousal that it evoked within him. He felt the bed stir as Duo moved again and in the ensuing silence (Duo had lost none of his stealth abilities over the years), Heero lay still, taught with anticipation for what might happen next. He didn't have to wait long.

"Arghh!" He cried, but it was more a cry of pleasure than of pain. Something had struck and brushed across his erection, at once both tickling and scratching him. He was fully erect now, the head of his cock large, purple and swollen. The object brushed against him again on its backswing, and the resulting friction was thrilling. The sensation came again, and through his haze of pleasure Heero noted that the object, although he couldn't name it, appeared to be a brush of some kind, with soft but stiff bristles. He moaned in ecstasy again, and bucked his hips upward in an attempt to meet the blows head on. In response, Duo struck harder and faster, whipping back and forth on Heero's penis with his switch. His purpose became plain when Heero realised that the deposits of wax were falling away as Duo struck; he felt the pieces of wax as they fell against his body.

Ominously, but at the same time tantalisingly silent, Duo switched his attentions to the wax deposits on his stomach and nipples, his lashes causing Heero to writhe, thrash and groan with an unprecedented lack of inhibition. It was Duo who was usually vocal during sex, not Heero, but the feeling of the switch against his nipples came near to driving Heero wild. If not for the ring of leather that Duo had transferred from his hair to Heero's penis, Heero was sure that he would have been finished long ago. Duo's binding of his hands and eyes was a masterstroke, and Heero now knew what Duo meant by 'it will be better'. He could neither see nor touch – all he could do was to lay back and feel, just as Duo kept insisting he did. The cockring was also a revelation. He had worn them before, of course, but never before had he experienced quite the sensation of tightness and extreme engorgement that he now felt. He felt as though his cock was about to explode, and the whipping he was currently receiving only served to intensify the feeling.

Duo was not striking with enough force to inflict pain, but as his husband relentlessly rained part stroking, part whipping blows on his penis, nipples and stomach, a tingling sensation began to set in, which quickly became a sharp stinging. Once again, to his surprise, Heero realised that the stinging was not unpleasant.

Throughout his experience Heero had been surprised to find that the pain Duo was inflicting was actually resulting in feelings of pleasure he would hardly have credited. He had, of course, heard of people who equated pain with pleasure and of the activities that such people indulged in, but he never imagined that he might share their proclivities. He found this thought somewhat disquieting.

The whipping did not continue for long and as abruptly as it had begun, it ceased. All went silent again. Heero once again strained his ears to try to discern any trace of Duo's movements or actions, but the other man moved with the stealth of a lion.

Then suddenly, another hiss of pain escaped him as a sharp burning pain seared through his chest. He knew what it was by now, but the pain was more intense this time. In quick succession, the pain burned across his stomach, and on the head of his penis. Heero wanted to throw back his head and howl, but he gritted his teeth against the pain. It was only for a moment, then the pain became intense, comforting warmth, coursing through his body and ebbing slowly, as the wax cooled. His nipples were stiff and engorged, as was his cock, and he sighed audibly as the warmth spread waves of ecstasy through him. He felt long, slender fingers rake gently through his hair, then Duo's voice came close to his ear.

"Well done babe," He whispered, his hot breath adding to Heero's rapture, "You did real well." He then felt Duo's deft fingers working at the knot of the blindfold, and then the cloth fell away.

Heero squinted against the brilliant light from the candles, blinking once or twice, then his eyes alighted on his husband. Duo's face was flushed and his eyes bright, and as Heero watched, he reached for the tab of the zipper on his shorts. Placing one foot on the edge of the bed, he slowly pulled the tab down over his groin, taking care to angle his body so that Heero had a clear view. The two halves of the garment, still joined at the waistband, sprang apart to reveal Duo's own erection. He pulled until he could reach no further, then turning, he reached behind him and pulled upwards, bending forwards slightly, the better to display himself to Heero's gaze. The fabric parted exposing the split of Duo's buttocks. Heero watched in a state of mesmerism as Duo reached round and inserted two lubricant-slathered fingers into the puckered aperture between. Duo quickly worked at the hole with his fingers while Heero watched. He then turned, swiftly removed the cock ring from the base of Heero's cock, and peeled the hardened wax from its swollen head. He then straddled Heero and impaled himself upon his engorged member. Thus Duo rode Heero swiftly to the most intense climax of his life.

Later that night, as they prepared for bed in their own bedroom, Heero leaned contemplatively against the door jamb of the dressing room and watched Duo as he brushed his hair before the vanity mirror.

"Duo," He said eventually, finally voicing his thoughts, "I'm still a little puzzled about something you said earlier."

"What's that babe?" Duo replied absently, as he worked at a knot with the hairbrush.

"You mentioned that I'd marked some pages in that encyclopaedia you've been reading."

"Yeah." Duo said with a sly grin. "That's where I got the idea from."

"But I didn't mark any pages." Duo looked up at him.

"Sure you did." He said. "I picked up the book when you went off to have a shower this morning, and you'd marked a page. When I opened the book I saw that the page you'd marked was the 'Hot Wax' page. You'd said you were interested in something you'd read, so… What? What's so funny?" Heero was suddenly laughing. He laughed so hard that he had to hold onto the door jamb to support himself.

"Duo," He said, when his laughter had subsided, "Did you happen to notice what else was on that page?" Duo shrugged.

"No, not really." He replied. Heero chuckled again.

"Well the entry for 'Homophobia' was on the same page, and I marked it because there was a reference in the definition I wanted to check." Duo stopped brushing and turned to Heero, his eyes wide with incredulity and dismay.

"You mean you weren't interested in hot wax play?" He asked, somewhat crestfallen.

"Well, not at the time," Heero replied, as he crossed the floor and squeezed onto the vanity stool beside him. "Not specifically. But I have absolutely no complaints and," He leaned towards Duo and kissed him lightly, "I'm very interested in it now. Come on, let's get to bed."


	27. District Snow

District Snow

By DRL

Sally Po deposited the empty champagne flute she had been nursing for the past ten minutes onto a tray carried the butler as he passed by. She declined his offer of a freshly charged glass, and surreptitiously detached herself from the group gathered around the piano. She was not particularly knowledgeable about classical music, but she recognised the piece that Quatre was playing, and he was playing it quite beautifully. The group had coerced him into giving an impromptu recital, and Quatre, after an initial demur, eventually capitulated. He really was an accomplished pianist, and it was with a mild regret that Sally withdrew. She passed along the passage and entered a cosy sitting room. She could still hear the strains of the air that Quatre was playing as she lowered herself into an arm chair. She sank gratefully back into the soft, down-filled cushions and ran her hands lightly across the taught kidskin that was stretched across the broad arms of the chair, relishing the supple smoothness of the hide.

She slipped her feet out of her stiletto-heeled pumps and breathed a sigh of relief as her toes were released from the narrow confines of the shoes. The shoes were beautifully elegant and a perfect colour-match for her dress, but their 4" heels and sharply tapered toes made protracted wear something of an ordeal, and she had been wearing them now for close on five hours. In a rather inelegant posture, lifting the hem of her full-length evening gown until her legs were exposed to the knee, she raised one foot, rested it upon the opposite knee and massaged the toes with her fingertips. The hairpins that secured the tight chignon that her thick, honey-blonde hair had been twisted into were digging into her scalp uncomfortably, but she did not dare loosen any of them for fear that the entire structure would come cascading down. As she eased her aching feet she relaxed back into the chair and closed her eyes.

From along the hall, a round of enthusiastic applause greeted the end of the piece that Quatre was playing and after brief pause, during which Sally could only imagine the entreaties of the group since these at least were beyond earshot, Quatre began playing again. Once again, Sally recognised the melody, but she knew neither the name of the piece, nor its composer. Her eyes still closed, she listened to the strains of the music as it floated along the passageway to the room where she sat, and as she immersed herself in the melody, she absently switched feet, and began to massage the other.

"Ahhh," She sighed, "The suffering we women have to endure just to look good…"

"And quite successfully too, from where I'm sitting." Said a voice that sounded disconcertingly close.

Sally's eyes flew open and she lowered her skirts abruptly. She had immediately recognised the melodious voice, and she stared wildly at Treize Khushrenada as he lounged insouciantly in the arm chair opposite hers, an amused smile on his handsome face, looking for all the world as though he had been there for the past half an hour. By heaven, but the man must have moved with the stealth of a cat; she hadn't heard a thing! It was a measure of how far relations between herself and this man had come that all she did at this juncture was to give a light laugh, after recovering from the initial shock.

"Thank-you kindly sir." She said coquettishly, "And exactly how long have you been sitting there?"

"Not long." Treize said vaguely. "Did you not appreciate the impromptu piano concerto?" He asked.

Sally looked across at him. As was usually the case, Treize cut a dashing figure, impeccably dressed as he was in a well-cut, black dinner suit. His beautifully knotted bow-tie drew a smile from her as she recalled Wufei once telling her how, throughout their fourteen year marriage, Treize had many times attempted to teach him how to achieve the perfect butterfly effect, with scant success. His suit was pressed to perfection, his shirt starched and dazzlingly white, and his shoes were buffed to a blemishless gleam. He looked as fresh and crisp as a newly-picked daisy, though he had been at the dinner party just as long as she had. How on earth did he do it, she wondered enviously?

"Oh yes," She hastened to reassure him, "It was wonderful; Quatre is a very good pianist. I just… my shoes – you know how it is." She smiled apologetically. Treize eyed the offending footwear that lay discarded on the floor between them.

"I can imagine." He said with sympathy. Sally cast a glance down at his own hand-tooled shoes. She doubted this very much.

"What about you," She asked as she drew her feet up into the chair, shifting a little until she was completely comfortable, "Did _**you**_ not care for the recital?" Treize smiled wryly.

"I enjoyed it very much, but I deemed it best to remove myself from view before my darling husband took it into his head to remind everyone of my 'pleasant, light baritone' - his words, not mine - then stirred them up to entreat me to sing. He takes a great deal of pleasure in landing me in the soup on these occasions. I can't imagine why."

Sally laughed. She had been a witness to this ruse of Wufei's more than once, and she had to agree with the Chinese ex-pilot. Treize did indeed possess a fine singing voice and it occurred to her to return to the drawing room and start the clamour herself. She remained where she was, however, and listened to Treize as he continued.

"Also, I saw you leave and I followed you deliberately."

"Why?" Sally asked with a suspicious frown.

"Because…" Treize drew the word out emphatically, "I hear that congratulations are in order."

"Who told you that?" She snapped sharply, her eyes suddenly as hard as flint.

"Your husband-to-be." He replied. Sally's temper flared.

"Shit!" She hissed with annoyance, uttering the expletive before she could govern herself. Treize recoiled slightly and regarded her with brows raised.

"Really, my dear," He said, "This is hardly the reaction of a blushing bride-to-be.

"Oh," She said quickly, "I'm sorry. It's just that we agreed not to say anything…" She tailed off.

"Well you needn't worry," Treize said reassuringly, "He didn't exactly make a general announcement. The poor fellow's been like a cat on hot bricks all evening and I think he just wanted to tell someone - _**anyone**_. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." He paused, then added, "_**He**_ seems extremely happy though."

Sally caught Treize's emphasis. _**He**_ seemed extremely happy, whereas _**she**_… She glanced across at him and he looked back at her fixedly, his expression quite blank. His intent, steely blue gaze bored into her, and for a while she remained speechless, able only to return his stare. Wufei had once told her that his husband had a way of looking at him sometimes that made him wilt like boiled spinach. She now understood what the Chinese pilot meant. Treize's pale blue eyes were mesmerising, and she felt as though he was looking inside her, seeing directly into her very soul. Finally, she quailed beneath the intensity of the scrutiny she was being subjected to. She looked away from him, casting her gaze upon her shoes – anywhere but at him.

"He… he's a good man." She said weakly, but even to her own ears her faltering words rang hollow. "He'll make a good husband," She pressed on, nodding, as if to reinforce her words, "And he loves me. Yes," She nodded again, "He loves me."

"Convinced yet, are you?"

Sally's head shot up, but as she met Treize's steady gaze, she looked away again, this time to the large, abstract oil painting that hung on the wall at Treize's back, the boldly swirling, vari-coloured brushstrokes as unordered and confused as her own thoughts, and as tortuous as the intensity of this man's scrutiny. Damn him! Why did he always do this to her? Suddenly she breathed a heavy sigh and gave it up. Wearily she dragged her eyes back to his. His mild smile was kindly, but she sensed pity there, which immediately sparked her ire. She did not return the smile.

"Sally why?" He asked gently.

"Why?" She gave a short bark of laughter. "I suspect you know why." She replied. "And I suspect you've always known." She eyed him narrowly as he remained silent. "You have, haven't you? You've always known." She pressed, her flashing eyes demanding a response. Finally, he nodded.

"Yes, I've always know. Well," He added quickly, "Perhaps not always, but I've known for a while now."

Sally coloured, wondering by what word or gesture had she given herself away. She had prided herself on being so discreet, so adept at masking her feelings. Had she perhaps been as transparent as a schoolgirl with a crush all along, or had he divined the truth some other way? Suddenly her eyes widened in alarm.

"Does _**he**_ know?" Treize sat back in his chair and casually crossed one leg elegantly over the other. He shook his head.

"Don't worry, he has absolutely no idea." Treize gave a mild chuckle. "You know Fei. If tomorrow morning he were to find the words _'I love you Wufei Chang, from Sally Po'_ written in red lipstick across the bathroom mirror, it would be absolutely the first idea he would have had of anything of that kind." Despite herself, Sally laughed. She knew his words to be true. Even had the field been clear (and Wufei actually interested in women, not men), winning him would have been an uphill struggle.

"In that case, I'm surprised _**you**_ got anywhere with him." She said blithely, but Treize's face immediately fell, and she instantly repented of her levity.

"So am I," He said darkly, "So am I. It certainly wasn't easy." Sally was surprised at the other man's dour demeanour and bleak tone. She had seldom seen him exhibiting anything other than supreme confidence, and she wondered what dark memories her causal remark had dredged up.

"But he adores you," She said reassuringly, "He always has."

"Perhaps," Treize replied dryly, "But he hasn't always realised it. In fact, he was convinced he hated me at one point. Unfortunately, Wufei doesn't always see things as clearly as he might."

Sally knew then that the statement was a veiled reference to Wufei's mental health problems. Treize was always very open and direct about everything. With him, there was never any prevarication, not even regarding his husband's ongoing battle with depression. The aristocrat coped with Wufei's depressive periods with characteristic strength and fortitude, but occasionally the shell fractured, and the considerable strain he endured was visible, momentarily. Such lapses were rare, however.

"Eventually, he came to appreciate his mistake though," Treize continued in a lighter tone, "Which was all to the good."

"For you perhaps." Sally said, but with good humour. "How long have you known?" She asked. She didn't trouble to challenge the fact that despite his knowledge he had born her no malice or resentment. She was no threat to him – they both knew that.

"How long have you felt like this about Wufei?" He countered, ignoring the question she had posed.

"Longer than I should have, considering the fact that I've known from the first that it was futile." She replied. "I'm a fool, I know."

"A fool? For falling in love? Would that we were all so foolish." Treize said.

"Wufei was right." Sally said. "You _**are**_ a very nice man." Treize smiled.

"He said that?" He asked.

"Many times." She replied. "That and more. I have a confession to make." She said. "There was a time when _**I**_ thought I hated you too. It was just sour grapes really, because you had him and I didn't, but I'd convinced myself that you were a tyrant and a bully. For years Wufei tried to convince me otherwise, but I simply wouldn't listen to him. To his credit, he didn't think any less of me because I didn't like you, and he didn't let it affect his relationship with me. He so wanted the two of us to be friends, me and you. The other pilots had all accepted you and forgiven any past misdeeds, and he just wanted me to do the same. You see, he had jumped to his own conclusions as to the reasons for my animosity towards you, which suited me fine."

Everything changed that day we met at the Shoreby Club and you asked me to assist with his corneal transplant surgery because you though it would make him feel less anxious. You were so worried about him and for the first time it became clear to me that you were utterly devoted to him and would do absolutely anything for him. Do you remember that day?" Treize smiled and nodded.

"How could I forget?" He replied. "You see, that was the day that I discovered your true feelings towards Wufei."

Sally frowned, her gaze turning inwards as she cast her mind back over the meeting, striving to recall anything she might have said or done to give any hint, any clue. She thought she had always been so careful…

"Sally…?" She snapped to attention.

"I'm sorry – what was that?" She asked distractedly.

"I was saying that you needn't trouble to wrack your memory. You didn't actually say or do anything specific. It was nothing tangible - just the expression on your face in reaction to something I'd said or just the look in your eye sometimes. Then afterwards, your deep concern for him and your efforts on his behalf, well above and beyond the call of your duties as a physician. All of this served to confirm my initial conclusions, but that day at the Shoreby Club – it was as though a light suddenly snapped on in my head." Sally smiled and shook her head fondly.

"Treize," She said, "You are a very nice man and a very clever one too."

"Not at all." Treize said. "After all, as a person who is in love with Wufei myself, it is not inconceivable that I could easily spot another, is it? '_Aithnionn ciaróg ciaróg eile!'[1_as the saying goes."

"I have no idea what that means," Sally said with a laugh, "But I think I get the gist." Her expression grew grave. "I _**have**_ to marry Warren. What else can I do? Go on mooning over Wufei? I've done that for long enough now. I have to get on with my life. All my friends are settled or have families. Even Wufei keeps asking me why I'm still single. Hah," She laughed mirthlessly, "Well may he ask."

"But to marry a man you don't love…" Treize began, but Sally cut him off.

"A man I don't love, but a man I like and respect very much." She said with fervour. "Treize, I'm a realist. I know, as I'm sure do you, that many couples marry while starry-eyed over each other, but with time that initial ardour eventually cools to exactly what Warren and I have now. That 'just-married' passion cannot possibly endure forever, but the respect and friendship that Warren and I share can, and very often does. It's what's left when the passion is spent. I can't give Warren the passion, but the rest he already has, and always will have."

He knows I don't love him. I've never deceived him about that. He's still willing to take me on though, and I'm deeply honoured by that. I'll make him the best wife I possibly can, and maybe, with time, I will grow to love him. I can't promise anything though." Sally shrugged resignedly. "A bird in the hand is worth two in a bush, and I'm not likely to get a better offer." Treize gave a wry smile.

"Are you convinced _**now**_?" He asked. Her responding smile was filled with warmth.

"Yes," She nodded, "I think I am."

"In that case," Treize said, "My congratulations to both of you. I wish you all best. I'm sure you'll both be very happy." Sally broke into a broad grin. She rose from her seat, crossed to Treize and enfolded him in a warm embrace. When they parted, she remained at his side, kneeling beside his chair, their hands clasped.

"I have a favour to ask you." She said.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Will you give me away?" She asked. "I don't have any family I could ask, and I can't think of anyone else I would rather have…" Her expression was hopeful but there was a distinct lack of optimism in her voice. Treize's eyes widened in surprise and astonishment.

"Me? I though… well..." He stammered uncharacteristically.

"What, Wufei? Talk sense," She said good-humouredly when he nodded in affirmation, "He's shorter than me."

[1 – One beetle knows another (an old Irish proverb)

9


	28. Aspen Flint

Aspen Flint

(Chapter 28 of the Contemplation Indigo Series)

By DRL

"You okay Babe?" Duo's voice came distractedly from across the room. Despite his words the braided man's eyes did not stray from their current focus, not even to vouchsafe a glance at his interlocutor.

"Yes, I'm fine." Heero replied, and he **_did_** turn and look across at his husband. Duo continued to dab at the canvas before him with a delicate paint brush, and gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Heero smiled and turned away.

It was Saturday. Heero had awoken to find the bed beside him empty and cold. Duo had woken in the small hours, overcome by a fit of creative zeal, and had made immediately for his studio. Heero, although disapproving, had not attempted to remonstrate with him. Such was the eccentricity of the artistic temperament, and Heero had learned, if not to accept it, then at least to tolerate it. Having implored Duo to be careful (they lived in the heart of the city and Heero considered anyone still abroad at such an hour to be up to no good and, therefore, not to be trusted), he rolled over and went back to sleep. He woke early, went for a long run, returned, breakfasted, then went shopping for groceries in the local market. Stopping at a deli to purchase a ham and cheese bagel and orange juice to serve as breakfast for Duo, he then made his way to the studio.

Duo's studio was located at the top of a large, converted factory building, situated on the South Bank of the river. Their apartment building was also on the banks of the river, but on the opposite side - the upmarket side. Property on this side of the river was amongst the most valuable in the City, but the south side had yet to catch up. It was well on the way though, and investment and development in this area was burgeoning. Heero, of all people, had gotten in on the ground floor, and was set to realise a fortune, thanks to Quatre and his business acumen.

When the couple had first purchased their waterfront apartment, Duo went in search of a studio - conveniently located - where he could continue his work. They visited one such place with Quatre in tow, since Trowa was away on business for a day or so and the couple had been deputed to keep the blond out of mischief until his husband returned. The unit on offer was at the top of a disused factory building. Only the top floor was in use at the time, and the rest of the building was virtually condemned. The top floor had been used as a workshop where special effects for movies were devised and produced, and this floor at least was in reasonably good repair. The couple were immediately divided - Duo loved the place, and Heero hated it! Duo loved the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the space with natural light on all four sides and Heero hated the idea of his husband working in a derelict building. While Duo wandered around inspecting his new studio (for he had set his heart on the place), Quatre discreetly drew Heero aside.

"Er, Heero," He said hesitantly, "I think you might be missing out on an opportunity here."

He then went on to explain that in its present condition, the building as a whole could be purchased for a relatively small sum. His idea was that, rather than renting just the one floor, Heero could purchase the whole building with a view to renovation. After redevelopment, the building itself would then be worth several times the purchase price, taking into account the rising status of the area in general, not to mention the value of the rents from the converted units. After further lengthy discussions and extremely careful consideration (Heero was a cautious investor), he followed Quatre's advice and from that day he never looked back. The grade II listed building [1] was sympathetically restored and renovated, part of the building having been converted for residential use and part given over to artists studios and artisans workshops. Heero retained the freehold and the rents from the property augmented the Maxwell-Yuy coffers quite nicely.

The whole of the top floor was retained for Duo's studio, and the space was extremely pleasant. The windows that had captured the braided man's heart still remained, and the light from them gave the space a wonderfully bright, cheery ambiance. Duo found the light perfect for his work, and even at night he found the view out across the lighted City and along the river inspiring. As Heero now looked out at this same view, he smiled as he recalled that Duo had selected their apartment using the exact same criteria. The main living area of the apartment had an aspect which gave unparalleled views of the city and the river, much the same as the studio, although from the opposite bank, and Duo had been immediately taken by this at that time too.

Although they retained an agent to maintain and manage the building, Heero liked to keep an eye on his investment and he visited the studio from time to time, ostensibly to take a look at what his husband was up to, but really to survey his property. On his way up to the penthouse studio he had taken a look around to check that the building was being well-maintained and that the managing agents were earning their fee. Reassured as to this, he then continued up to the studio. The original goods lift used to carry goods between the six floors of the factory was restored, and this vast lift was now used by the building's tenants, although Heero was frustrated by its slow, lumbering, mechanical rather than electronic operation. Duo would always call him a Philistine when he complained about this, and Heero had to admit that he probably was. The building had won awards for its sympathetic restoration and conversion from commercial to domestic use, while maintaining its original, historic appearance and for this Heero had Duo to thank. While his husband had achieved artistic success with his contemporary, abstract style, Duo was quite the traditionalist at heart and it was at his insistence that the building retained all of its original architectural features (such as the lift and the glorious windows). Even the name remained, and the building was called 'The Candle Factory' in _homage_ to its previous designation.

Heero turned away from the window and continued his wanderings around the room, pausing every now and then to look through the piles of finished, in-progress and abandoned canvasses that littered the room, frowning with perplexed incomprehension at some of the more abstruse examples. The world of fine art was an alien one to Heero, for all that he was married to a successful artist, and while he did encourage and support Duo in his work, he was one of the _'I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like'_ brigade. His artistic tastes were simple, and Duo's complex abstract themes were too rich for his blood. Just looking at them left him dazed and confused, and when Duo attempted to explain the philosophy behind them, his head began positively to ache. He was content to appreciate them for their pretty colours, and beyond that he dared not venture. Duo's sculpture had the same effect on Heero, although he was on much safer ground with Duo's portraiture, since this was susceptible of one interpretation only.

Heero had been up to the studio countless times in the five or so years that Duo had been using it, but every time he visited something different seemed to capture his interest. This time his eyes alighted on a stack of what he assumed must be canvasses, but which were covered by a paint-spattered sheet. He couldn't recall having seen this covered pile before, and his curiosity was piqued. Canvasses were stacked all around the room, but none were covered, as this stack was. He carefully removed the sheet to expose the pile, and immediately raised an eyebrow.

Unlike the majority of the other canvasses stacked up against the studio walls, these were stacked with their painted faces towards the wall, and all Heero was presented with was the reverse of the canvasses, revealing their wooden stretchers. He seized the first painting in the pile and turned it round to face him. It was not at all what he expected, and he gave a gasp of surprise. Instead of Duo's usual varicoloured abstract rendering, this was an extremely realistic portrait... of Heero himself. It was an intensely personal study, with Heero half-turned away from the viewer. He seemed to be deep in thought. It was only a head and shoulders view, and the background was a mere wash of ochre, but Heero's face was painted so finely that he might have been cut from a photograph and stuck on to the canvas.

Heero recognised this style. As well as his abstract paintings and conceptual sculpture, Duo also painted portraits, and his style was this ultra-realistic, almost photographic rendition. Duo's portraiture fame was quite widespread, and he had been commissioned to paint portraits of some quite influential people, including crowned heads. He had also painted Quatre, Trowa, Treize and Wufei. It had never occurred to Heero to wonder why he had never been asked to sit for his husband. The matter had just never crossed his mind. Now, as he looked at his own face rendered in oil on canvas by his husband, it suddenly dawned on him how strange it was that he had never thought of it before. He stood the painting to one side and turned the next canvas round to face him. Again, it was a portrait of Heero himself. This time he was smiling at the viewer. Not a broad smile, but a small, enigmatic smile that revealed little but promised much - one that he used whenever he wanted to entice Duo into bed and one that usually met with unparalleled success since the braided man never needed too much persuasion. Again the background of the portrait was sketchily painted, in stark contrast with the precision of the foreground figure. Heero looked at his own image smiling back at him, and wondered whether his eyes were really that blue. They never seemed so to him, but he supposed that Duo knew best. The next picture was merely a monochrome sketch, once again, of Heero himself. This time he was seated, and appeared to be looking down at something out of view, perhaps reading a book or a newspaper. Duo had used a looser style this time, perfectly suited to the absence of colour.

As Heero turned over canvas after canvas, he was met with his own face time after time. Duo had indeed painted Heero's portrait, despite the fact that Heero had never sat for him. He had painted him many, many times, and appeared to have covered every one of Heero's moods. He had even painted a few nudes, which had brought a self-conscious flush to Heero's cheeks, since in Duo's renditions Heero's image was far better endowed than Heero modestly recalled from life. Perhaps, he thought as he called to mind the blue of his eyes from the earlier picture, his husband was apt to apply his artistic license over-freely.

Heero smiled as he leafed through the canvasses, one after another depicting differing aspects of him, his mein and his personality. Heero had often remarked on Duo's ability to capture his subject's character in his portraits. Indeed this, as well as the accuracy of his rendition, was the key to his considerable success. For good or ill, Duo told it as it was, and the people couldn't get enough of it. Disconcertingly, Heero found himself portrayed warts and all. He knew that there were times when he was deliberately harsh with Duo, for no other reason than because he was in a bad mood himself. In one of the paintings Duo had him facing the viewer, his face filling the canvas. His eyes were wide, staring and wild; his lips were pursed and drawn tightly into a thin line. His hands were elevated, one on either side of his head, with his clawed fingers thrust deep into his hair, apparently tearing at it. Frankly, he looked little short of deranged.

Heero's initial reaction on turning up this disturbing picture was shock, which immediately gave way to indignation. How dare Duo - he didn't look like that at all! However, after a moment's sincere reflection, this was soon superseded by shameful resignation. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he probably did look exactly like that sometimes. He certainly felt like it from time to time and on these occasions, he grudgingly admitted, Duo possibly did come in for something of a hard time. At such times this was clearly how his husband saw him, and Heero was suitably chastened. After this he looked at the pictures with a more analytical eye, and subsequently he learned quite a lot about himself and Duo's vision of him.

Suddenly he turned over a canvas and immediately his senses were sent reeling by the whirling vortex of shapes and colours painted upon it. The palette used was dark and dreary - dull greys, muddy browns and torpid greens. The paint was applied to the canvas thickly and a knife or some such instrument had clearly been dragged through the paint, leaving behind deep, harsh tracks. The impression was one of confused frenzy, and again, Heero was shocked. Quite what this meant he was at a loss to fathom, since this disquieting image was amongst the other, rather more pleasant, portraits of him. There were several of these unsettling paintings, then as abruptly as they began, they stopped and the subject matter reverted to the more standard fare - specifically a painting of Heero lying recumbent on a bed - nude. This was more like Duo, he though, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"Oh shit!"

Heero half-heard the expletive on the periphery of his consciousness, but suddenly Duo was at his back. Heero looked round and caught the look of alarm in his husband's eyes.

"Er, you okay there?" The braided man asked for the second time that morning, this time with apprehension. His glance shifted from Heero to the nude painting, then back to Heero again as he chewed his lower lip. Heero forbore to reply. He, in his turn, glanced from the painting to Duo and back again, his expression neutral. Duo, detecting no anger from his husband, relaxed and squatted down beside him, his arm draped fondly across Heero's shoulders, and they both contemplated the picture. "Whaddya think?" He asked. Heero cocked his head contemplatively as he regarded the picture then he gave a mild chuckle.

"I think I'm not quite as... **_big_** as that."

"Oh you're every bit as big as that." Duo said with a lascivious smirk. "You er, you weren't actually supposed to see these." He added, lowering his voice a little. He removed his arm from Heero's shoulders and settled himself cross-legged upon the floor. Heero turned back to the stack of pictures and began to look through them once more.

"Why not?" He asked, throwing Duo a glance over his shoulder.

"I dunno," Duo replied with a shrug, "They're kinda private."

"I'll say." Heero replied wryly, as he turned up another nude. A thought suddenly struck him and he shot Duo a dark look. "Has anyone else seen these?" He asked.

"No, well..." Duo replied uncertainly. Heero's eyes narrowed ominously and Duo shook his head vigorously. "No, no-one's seen them but me... and now you." He added. Heero gave a satisfied grunt, and turned back to the pictures.

"Where have you been hiding these?" He asked. "How come I have never noticed them here before?"

"I haven't been hiding them," The braided man protested, "They've been here all the time. They've been out the back." He flicked his head by way of indicating an area of the large, open-plan space that was partitioned off by stud walling. In this 'room' Duo customarily stretched his canvasses, mixed his pigments and cleaned his brushes. Heero nodded. The paintings could indeed have been in this utility area and Heero would never have noticed them since not often did he probe the mysteries of whatever went on in there. Heero finally left the stack of paintings and turned to Duo, sitting back on his heels.

"How come you brought them out?" He asked. Duo made a nonchalant moue before replying.

"Pip had this idea for a show the other day and we were talking about it. I thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea and I was just checking whether I had enough work."

Heero's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Pip Gardener, Duo's agent, worked tirelessly to promote and market the braided man and his work, and generally speaking Heero wholeheartedly approved. Heero was very much aware that Duo owed his success in no small part to Pip and her efforts, but there were limits. He shook his head decisively.

"No! Absolutely not." He said darkly. "If you and Pip think that I'm going to stand idly by while the two of you hang pictures of my naked body... what? " Duo had suddenly begun to laugh uproariously.

"Not a nudes show," He said when he was once more master of himself and his laughter had died to a light chuckle, "A portraiture show. Pip wants to do a show featuring my portraits. I was just looking through these for the portraits, not the nudes, silly."

"Hnnn." Heero grunted. With anyone else he would have felt the embarrassment of such a foolish mistake, but Duo knew the best and the worst of him and with the braided man he felt no shame. "Well do you," He asked, "Have enough work?" He added. Duo glanced vaguely around the studio.

"Yeah, I guess," He said, "If I get some back on loan."

Heero thought of some of the highly publicised portraits of high-profile public figures and celebrities of the day that Duo had painted. If he managed to secure some of these back on short-term loan, they would indeed form the basis of major exhibition. He nodded slowly.

"I think it's a very good idea." He said. "It should make an interesting exhibition."

Duo grinned appreciatively, but it went unseen by Heero. He had gone back to the painting stack and was looking purposefully through the canvasses. He stopped and lifted one of the paintings from the stack, turning its face to Duo. It was one of the abstract paintings that he had come across amongst the other pictures of himself - the ones he had found so disturbing.

"Duo, what's this?" He asked. Duo looked at the painting and paled visibly.

"It's nothing babe, just put it down." He said with studied nonchalance. He stood briskly and turned his back to Heero as he crossed to where Heero had deposited the paper bags containing the breakfast he had brought. Heero frowned.

"But there are quite a few of them here," Heero continued, "And why are they among my pictures?" Duo did not reply. He unwrapped the enormous bagel filled with ham and Swiss cheese, and took a large bite.

"Duo..." Heero followed his husband across the room and came to stand in front of him, forcing eye contact. "Duo, what are these pictures?" He insisted. "Why won't you tell me?"

Duo sighed resignedly and put down the bagel. He chewed and swallowed his mouthful and wiped his hands on the seat of his jeans before turning to Heero with a serious expression.

"Since you insist, I'll tell you," He said, "But you're gonna wish you'd never asked." He looked towards the canvas stack. "How do you feel when you look at those pictures?" He asked. With a growing sense of foreboding Heero looked through the canvases once more. He looked intently at them one at a time, leafing through them slowly. Then he half-turned towards his husband, his eyes strangely reluctant to leave the turbulent images rendered so indelibly on the canvas.

"Well," Heero began uncertainly, giving a self-conscious little laugh "This is going to sound silly, and remember, I'm a real philistine when it comes to art, but..." He hesitated, looking back to the pictures, "They make me feel... how I can put it... suicidal."

Duo's unsmiling eyes met Heero's, then he turned away, walked slowly across the room and sank heavily down onto an incongruously baroque, velvet-upholstered gilt chaise longue, a prop he occasionally used for his portrait painting. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked down at the paint-stained, hardwood floor. Unbidden, memories forced their way to the forefront of his mind, and he made no attempt to push them back...

_He continued to apply the paint to the canvas with wild, frenzied strokes, wielding the palette knife as though it were a rapier. The result was a confusing mass of varicoloured vortices, in a dull, dreary palette of blacks, greys, olive greens and dun browns. He stopped suddenly, his brush in mid-swipe as the unshed tears that filled his eyes blurred his vision, preventing him from continuing. He allowed the arm that held the brush to drop to his side and his head fell forward, his chin resting on his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut against the memories that flooded his mind, and large teardrops splashed onto the floor. He drew a deep breath which developed into a hitching sob, then his face crumpled as the tears began to fall freely and he wept openly. _

_Duo heard the door open and close, and although he felt the presence at his elbow, he gave no acknowledgement, nor did he resist as the brush was removed from his fragile grasp. He felt strong arms enfold him and his face was gently pressed against a broad chest._

_"Oh Duo..." _

_The voice was deep and melodious, and the fingers that stroked Duo's hair were light and gentle. Duo wept with abandon, allowing the deep despair he felt to flow out of him with his tears. _

_Treize held Duo in a comforting embrace as he wept, and when his tears had subsided, with a steadying arm about his shoulders, he led the braided man from the room._

"Yeah," Duo agreed dryly, "Suicidal. That was about right." He looked up at Heero. "Remember last year when... when we split up for a while?" Heero nodded slowly. He was never likely to forget the few months when the thought he had lost the love of his life forever. "Well I painted them back then, when I was in France, with Treize and Wufei babysitting me. I was in a pretty bad way and I guess I was just doodling on the canvas as a way of expressing my feelings." Duo jerked a thumb towards the stack of paintings. "Those were what came out." Duo cocked his head and gave him a challenging look. "When you found my ring for me and we got back together, we never really discussed the matter, did we?"

Heero moistened his lips nervously before shaking his head.

"No." He said, lowering his eyes guiltily. "I was too glad to have you back and I didn't want to rock the boat by bringing up old wounds."

"Yeah," Duo nodded, "I guessed as much, and I'm as bad as you because I let you off the hook." He smiled wryly. "I didn't mention it myself because I didn't want to rock the boat either. You brought my ring back and proved your love for me," Duo absently stroked light fingers over the gold band that adorned his left hand, "And that was all I needed to know at the time. Later there just didn't seem any point in bringing it up. Anyway," He continued with a dismissive shrug, "It's just emotional shit, and I know you don't do emotions so..."

"No Duo," Heero cut him off, "That's hardly fair. I was a fool back then and I hurt you very deeply. To this day, and to my great shame, I had no real idea how deeply - that is, until I saw those paintings just now." Heero cast a pained, sideways glance at the stack of paintings, then crossed the floor to the chaise longue. He perched beside his husband and half-turned so that their eyes met. "They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and that was certainly true of these." He jerked his head towards the canvasses. "But I owe it to you to hear the words," He continued, "From the horses mouth, as it were. It was wrong of me to just accept your forgiveness and say nothing - not even sorry." He added quietly. "Tell me," Heero said, "I need to hear."

_Duo sat staring out at the garden, but he saw nothing of it's beauty. Once again he felt sick to his stomach, although he had no more than picked at his breakfast. This was the norm by now, and he was used to it. He felt sick, so he didn't eat - he didn't eat, so he felt sick. He knew that he was losing weight steadily and that this was distressing his hosts greatly. None of the clothes he had arrived with fitted him any longer, and he was now wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt belonging to Wufei which, now he thought about it, fitted him worryingly well. Surely he was not now as small as Wufei? He began to smile wryly. Heero would never believe it. A dark curtain came crashing down on his thoughts, dashing the semi-smile from his lips. But then Heero would never know, would he? His eyes flooded with tears and he squeezed them shut against the flood. A few slipped through and the hot beads rolled down his cheeks. He drew a deep breath and a hitching sound - half hiccup, half sob - escaped him involuntarily._

_"Duo...?" The staccato clickety-click of fingers striking a keyboard halted immediately and Wufei looked over at his hapless guest. "Are you okay?" _

_He rose from his chair, his brow creased with concern, but as he did so the study door opened and Treize entered the room. His eyes panned swiftly from one to the other of them, and he took in the situation at a glance._

_"I thought Duo might like to join me for a walk," Treize said affably, "So I'll be depriving you of your companion for a little while, my pet." He turned to Duo, who had twisted in his seat to face the newcomer. "Duo?" He shot the braided man an enquiring look._

_Duo was well aware of the dynamics at play here, despite his depressed state. Wufei was working against a tight deadline, attempting to finish the manuscript of a book he was working on. He and Treize had immediately stepped in and offered their assistance and hospitality in Duo's time of trouble, but the timing was far from convenient. Wufei needed to channel all his energies into perfecting and completing his manuscript, not nursing a friend through his marital difficulties. Treize had assumed the brunt of the burden of dealing with Duo, allowing Wufei to concentrate on his work. He had posed the request as a question, but there was really no refusing him. Treize Khushrenada was a man well versed in getting his own way. _

_Duo actually had no desire to refuse. He actually had no desire to do anything - except perhaps to lie down and die. In fact, he rather enjoyed his walks with Trieze, since this little scenario had indeed been a regular performance for a number of weeks now. He would pick at his breakfast, then retire with Wufei to his study, while Trieze went off to his own (the two of them kept separate studies, and they each attributed the success of their marriage to this one single factor). Wufei and Duo would sit together in Wufei's study, sometimes both of them on the sofa that Duo now occupied, occasionally chatting desultorily, but mostly just sitting in companionable silence. On other occasions, such as today, Wufei would sit at his desk, pounding away at his computer as a moment of inspiration seized him, and Duo would remain on the sofa, staring out at the garden through the open French windows. Midway through the morning, after he had attended to his own business affairs with Jarvis, his private secretary, Treize would present himself at the door of Wufei's study and assume the responsibility for 'Duo-watch' for the rest of the day. This way Duo was not vouchsafed the opportunity to harm himself, which he suspected was the reason for his friends' virtually round-the-clock vigilance, and Wufei was allowed the freedom he needed to complete his work. Duo was beyond feeling burdensome to his friends, however. He was beyond feeling anything. He rose and took Treize's outstretched hand. Treize smiled encouragingly at him. _

_"We'll be back for lunch, Sweet." Treize threw out over his shoulder, before leading Duo out and closing the door._

_Another regular scenario was the one that unfolded as the morning wore on. Treize took Duo on a leisurely walk along the lanes around the 18th Century chateau where he and Wufei lived. An old Khushrenada property, the chateau was the couple's main residence, and the surrounding land for hundreds of acres comprised the Khushrenada estate. Treize was truly master of all he surveyed. He took Duo along various different routes, but invariably they ended up seated beneath the shade of a large tree, Duo weeping copious tears onto Treize's shoulder._

Heero tightened his arm around Duo as he felt his husband shudder. They were now lying outstretched on the chaise longue, Heero with his back against the arm of the chaise, and Duo between his parted legs, his back against Heero's chest, his head lolling against Heero's shoulder. Heero held Duo close against him with one arm, and the fingers of his other hand were interlaced with Duo's as they rested on the braided man's stomach. Heero hadn't uttered a word for over an hour. He merely listened as Duo finally bared his soul, recounting what he had often described as the worst few months of his life.

"Treize and Wufei were great." Duo said. "I'd even go as far as to say that the two of them saved my life - especially Treize. If it wasn't for him I think I would have ended it." Heero stiffened in alarm, but he remained silent.

_"...but how can you say that?" Duo asked through his tears. "Heero doesn't love me. How could he have done that to me if he loved me?" Treize held Duo closed as he sobbed. He didn't respond, and eventually the other man continued. "He's been mean to me in the past, but that's just his way. Well I thought it was just his way. Perhaps he never really loved me at all. Perhaps he never really did, and the mean times were when he just couldn't hide it any more. Oh I don't know..." Duo beat a clenched fist against Treize's chest in frustration. "It just doesn't make any sense. He must have loved me once; I can't have been wrong about that, can I?" He looked up at the older man, a desperate hope in his red-rimmed eyes. _

_"No Duo," Treize replied quietly, "You can't have been wrong about that"_

_ The braided man buried his head in Treize's chest and wept desperately. Treize held him until the wave of emotion passed._

_"I just want to die." Duo said eventually. "I don't want to live any more if I don't have Heero's love. Do you know Treize," He continued with a sniff, "I met Heero when I was 15 years old, and I've known him for 15 years. I've known him half my life. I lived on the streets and I never had jack-shit before I fell in love with Heero." Duo lowered his voice. "And I don't have jack-shit without him. I tell you Treize," The braided man said earnestly, "I would rather die than live without Heero."_

_Treize did not reply. He merely held Duo in an embrace which he hoped was comforting, but he doubted it. His were not the arms that would bring Duo the comfort he so desperately craved. Later, as they sat side by side under the shade of a giant oak, their backs against its gnarled bole, Duo spoke again about his husband._

_"We fought so much, Heero & I did," He said, his voice hoarse from weeping, "But it wasn't anything." He gave a short bark of laughter, which carried little mirth. "There were times when we'd scream so much at each other that we only stopped because our throats ached. Then we'd look at each other and just start laughing because neither of us could remember what the argument had been about in the first place." He smiled - a slight expression, but genuine for all that. "Then we'd fall into bed and have sex, and that would be that." He chuckled again at the pleasant memory. Looking out across the picturesque, pastoral landscape, his eyes softened and he continued in a wistful tone._

_"I remember he was so mad at me once that he grabbed hold of my upper arms, shook me and said, 'God damn it Duo, you really drive me mad!' Then his face broke into a beautiful smile and he added, 'but I can't imagine being with anyone else.' Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. He was practically in tears the next day because his fingers had left bruises on my arms and he was so sorry about it. It didn't matter though - it's not like he hurt me or anything. _

_"You know yourself - you guys are always laughing at us because we're always fighting, but it's not really fighting. Heero and I don't mean anything by it. Yeah, **he** gets on **my** nerves too sometimes, and at other times he really drives me crazy, but it's nothing..." Duo tailed off. "Well **I **always thought it was nothing." His head snapped sharply round to face Treize. "What if Heero didn't? What if he really took it all to heart and eventually he grew to hate me? What if that's why he did it?" _

_Duo's violet eyes were wide, his horror at his own conclusion deeply inscribed on his visage. A profound sympathy for the younger man welled up in side Treize and he longed desperately to give him even a modicum of reassurance. _

_"If there is one thing I know for sure," He said sincerely, "It's that Heero doesn't hate you. Sadly, things have obviously broken down between you lately, but he definitely doesn't hate you."_

_"But how do you **know** that?" Duo asked plaintively, hope stirring in his eyes despite the negative import of his words._

_"Quite simply." Treize replied. "Heero annoy you, you say - yes?" Duo nodded. "And you annoy him?" _

_"Yeah, but..." Duo began, but Treize quelled him with a raised hand._

_"And when he gets irritated with you, how does he react? Does it aggrieve him at all?" Duo laughed mirthlessly._

_"Yeah, I guess so." He replied. "He sure bawls me out about it, so yeah, I guess you could say it 'aggrieves' him." Duo stressed the somewhat pompous term. Treize gave a rich chuckle._

_"That's not quite what I meant." He said. "When he gets so irritated with you that he shouts at you, what does he do after that?" Duo frowned as he gave the question a moment or two's serious thought, clearly confused by the direction of the conversation. His mouth twisted into a wry smile as he eventually replied._

_"Well, if he hasn't gone around to the Winners bellyaching to Trowa about what a pain in the ass I am, he sulks around the apartment for a bit, then he comes to find me and we make up. You know what happens after that." Treize nodded with a smile._

_"Yes, I think I have a pretty shrewd idea." He said. "Does that happen every time? He gets angry with you, then he comes looking for you to make up?" _

_"Pretty much." Duo nodded. _

_"Why?" Treize asked flatly. Duo's reply was immediate._

_"Oh Heero really hates me to be upset." He said categorically. "When other people upset me he's ready to kill 'em, and when he upsets me himself, it really bothers him. He broods for a while, but he will always come to me to make it up, whether he was wrong or whether he was right. He doesn't often apologise," Duo added wryly, "But he makes it known that things are cool between us and he isn't really angry with me."_

_"Well there you go!" Treize said, spreading his hands in an expansive gesture. "Your arguments obviously play on his conscience, and trust me Duo, you can only ever burrow under someone's skin to such an extent if they love you. If Heero hated you - or even if he were only indifferent to you - he would be unmoved by your pain. He would crave it even, but that is not the case, is it?" _

"Those words saved my life." Duo said. "It sounds really dumb now, because I guess it should have been obvious to me, but I was so convinced that I had lost your love that I my brain went into complete meltdown, and I just couldn't see it. Anyway, it took Treize to point it out to me and from that day I stopped contemplating suicide, dried my tears, started eating, and by the time you brought my ring back to me, I was pretty much my usual self."

"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far." Heero said dryly and was rewarded with a sharp elbow in the ribs from his husband. "So, I have Treize Khushrenada to thank for your being here today." He said, and after a short pause he added, "Does my love mean that much to you?"

"What, more than my own life?" Duo asked. "You bet it does. I told Treize that I didn't have jack shit without you, and that was no word of a lie." Heero nodded. He knew that his husband never lied. He placed a light kiss on Duo's temple.

"I love you Duo." He said earnestly. "Never, ever doubt it."

"I love you too babe," Duo replied. He smiled mischievously and circled his hips sensuously as he reclined between Heero's legs, so that his buttocks grated against the Japanese man's groin. "It's time for the sex now, right?" He asked.


	29. Blow

Blow

By DRL

_"YOU?" The braided young man ejaculated. His violet eyes were wide with astonishment and incredulity._

_"Shhh!" His blond interlocutor hissed, leaning across the table towards the other man. "Moderate your voice Duo, people are looking!"_

"_What, and you weren't bothered about them looking __when you…"_

"_Shhh!" The other man hissed again, this time with greater urgency._

_Duo shot a quick glance around the room, then leaned in in his turn, lowering his voice conspiratorially._

_"Nothing will make me believe that Quatre Raberba Winner ever did such a thing." He said._

_"That's__ Quatre Raberba 'Barton' Winner," The other declared with a complacent smile, "And he most certainly did – at this very table too." _

_A broad grin split Duo Maxwell's comely features._

_"Atta boy Q," He cried exuberantly, "Put her there!" With a firm grip, Quatre took the hand that Duo extended across the table, and pumped it vigorously._

If Quatre was honest about the whole thing, he had been out of sorts from the moment of first waking. Trowa sensed this within moments, as he always seemed to, and he took appropriate action to lift his husband's spirits which, while Quatre didn't quite accuse him of harbouring an ulterior motive, would also deal quite nicely with Trowa's 'morning glory'. Quatre had gently but positively rebuffed his advances - a measure of just how out of sorts he was that morning, and the two of them just lay in each other's arms until it was time to rise. He remained testy throughout the day, his mood not improved by his missing lunch due to an impromptu internal meeting.

The meeting responsible for his now gnawing stomach had just broken up, and all the attendees were slowly filing out of the boardroom, Quatre bringing up the rear. Wondering what the time was and therefore how long it was until suppertime, he raised his arm with a view to consulting his wristwatch, but as he did so he noticed that the crispy starched cuff of his shirt was hanging loose and unfettered, the gold cufflink that once held it at bay being noticeably absent. As the meeting had been an informal one, Quatre was not wearing a jacket, thus giving the sleeve even greater freedom. Clicking his tongue impatiently, he turned and went back into the boardroom. He recalled that he had been absently toying with the cufflink earlier on in the meeting, twisting and turning it this way and that, which had probably contributed to its eventual loosening and falling out, so he knew that the thing had to be in the boardroom somewhere. It was with relief that he immediately spotted it, as the pair had been a Christmas gift from Trowa the previous year and its loss would have upset him greatly. It had rolled under the boardroom table and was now winking prettily at him midway between the edges of the broad table, way out of easy reach. With a resigned sigh, Quatre squatted down and crawled beneath the table. As his hand closed triumphantly over his prize, he froze as the sound of girlish giggles wafted in from the doorway.

"…he's a right mean bastard, that one, I don't care how good-looking he is."

Quatre had no idea who it was, but the voice was that of a young woman and with dismay, he realised that she had actually entered the boardroom.

"Mean or not, I wouldn't kick him out of bed."

There were two of them, and they were both now well inside the room. Motionless, Quatre considered his options. He could remain where he was, but this conversation looked like it was going to be one that he really did not want to overhear, and the young women would be mortified if they discovered him (as, incidentally, would he). He could clear his throat loudly, thus declaring himself, then emerge from beneath the table, but how would he explain his presence there in the first place? He could show them the recalcitrant cufflink, but would they believe him? Anyway, he owned the damn company – why did he need to explain himself at all? Ah, but would they know who he was? Of course they would. Even if they had not seen him around the office, he and Trowa were frequently featured in the press and media, so they were both virtually household faces. The next statement made Quatre's mind up for him.

"Quatre Winner is the one _**I**_ wouldn't kick out of bed." Girl #1 said dreamily. Quatre maintained his position. There was no way he could declare himself now.

"In your dreams, my dear." Girl #2 replied derisively.

The rattling of china and the clinking of glasses told him what the two young women were doing in the boardroom. Using the sound of the crockery as cover, Quatre, now thankful for the table's size, altered his position so that he was crouched in as small a ball as possible beneath it. To be discovered now would be unconscionable.

"You have no idea." Girl #1 said in a sultry voice. "But my dreams about Quatre Winner would make a hooker blush."

"He was in here just now," Girl #2 said, "Did you see him? I came out to see if they were finished in here, and there he was, staring into space and fiddling with his sleeve."

"Probably bored to tears, poor lamb."

"Probably. More likely daydreaming though. He does that a lot, so Katy Marshall says. He just stares across at that portrait of Trowa Barton on the wall opposite his desk, daydreaming."

Bloody cheek! Quatre thought. It was not daydreaming, it was deep, meaningful contemplation. And anyway, where did his secretary get off gossiping about him to junior members of staff?

"Did he have a bulge in his trousers?" Girl #1 said slyly.

"Janet!" Girl #2 cried, scandalised by the question.

"Weeeell," Girl #1 explained, totally unrepentant, "If he did, then you'd know what he was daydreaming about, wouldn't you, or better still, who?

Both girls dissolved into giggles once more. Never mind a hooker, Quatre thought, he was blushing himself! Suddenly his eyes widened with horror as a chair was withdrawn and one of the girls sat down at the table, just in front of him. She crossed her legs demurely and her foot missed him by about one quarter of an inch. He froze, holding his breath.

"So what do you think they get up to in bed," The seated girl asked "Our boss and his gorgeous husband?" It was Girl #1 who was now established as 'Janet'.

"No idea," Her colleague replied, "But it must be pretty good because we're always hearing about how happy they are together. I don't think that would be the case if the sex was crap, do you?"

"I don't know," Janet said with a wistful sigh, "I think I would stay with Quatre Winner, crap sex or not, just to look at his beautiful face."

"Well Jan, you don't look at the mantelpiece when you're poking the fire, but he's definitely easy on the eye, I'll grant you that, and his millions don't hurt either. I wouldn't mind stepping out on _**his**_ arm."

"Leave off Beth Turpin, he's mine!" Janet admonished good-naturedly. Quatre watched warily as her foot jiggled up and down mere inches from his nose.

"He's neither yours, nor mine, nor ever will be." Girl #2 (or Beth, as she was now identified) said bitterly. "All the good ones are either married or gay, and Quatre Winner is both married _**and**_ gay. How much more unavailable can a guy get?"

"I think he'd be sensitive and gentle." Janet said meditatively, ignoring Beth Turpin's pessimism.

"What?"

"In bed, I mean." Janet explained. "Which one of them is on top, do you think?"

"Trowa Barton, I'd say." Beth replied decisively. "He always seems quite strong and masterful to me. I passed him once in the corridor. You know, he's much taller than he looks on the telly. He smiled at me, and fixed me with those smouldering, green 'come-to-bed' eyes. I'd have gone too, given half a chance. Oh yes, can imagine him being quite domineering in the bedroom. Quatre Winner doesn't seem the type to take the initiative in bed. Too pale and blond. I'll bet he's quite submissive. Probably likes being tied up, though – tied up and beaten, then taken savagely from behind. That'll be him, never mind that 'butter-wouldn't-melt' look that he has. He's a sub alright ."

"Beth, you are incorrigible!" Jan exclaimed with a laugh. "I don't know about being tied up and beaten, but I think you're right about him being submissive in bed." Abruptly she uncrossed her legs and rose, causing Quatre to dart smartly to one side to avoid being kicked in the teeth. "But we can't sit hear all day discussing the Boss's sex life. The next meeting will be starting in five minutes."

As the clatter of crockery on a rolling trolley faded away into the distance, Quatre emerged from beneath the table and stretched his cramped limbs. Not the type to take the initiative, was he? Bloody cheek! He roughly re-seated the errant cufflink as he wandered back to his office. He was now grumpier than ever.

"Are you feeling better now darling?"

Dinner at 'Les Trois Maisons' had been Trowa's idea. When he had collected Quatre in the chauffeur-driven car that ferried them both back and forth to and from work, the blond's mood was even blacker than it had been that morning. Within a short time he had ascertained that Quatre had not eaten since breakfast that morning so a slap-up meal at the most exclusive eatery in town seemed the obvious course.

"Yes thank-you Trowa." Quatre smiled. He had the other man's hand clasped lightly in his as it rested on the table-top, and he now squeezed it affectionately. "It was a good idea to come here. Would you like dessert?"

"Yes, if you're having something. You'll have to excuse me for a moment or two though." Trowa pushed his chair back from the table. "I hoped I could hold out until we had finished, but my bladder has other ideas." He rose and smiled apologetically. "Order the usual for me - I won't be a minute."

Trowa was as quick as he could be answering nature's little call to duty. He did not want to leave Quatre alone at the table too long but in addition to this, he was the only one using the men's restroom at the time and the room was presided over by an attendant. This presence made Trowa uncomfortable, since the man had nothing else to do but to observe the green-eyed ex-pilot at his toilette. As Trowa rinsed his hands he took the opportunity to check his reflection in the large, gilded mirror situated above the washbasins. He smoothed a hair or two back into place then, satisfied that his appearance required no further attention, he shook the excess water from his hands and was immediately presented with a snow-white terry-towelling square with which to dry them by the enthusiastic attendant. Mumbling his thanks, he fumbled in his trouser-pockets, withdrew a handful of change and dropped it into a gilded dish that was already brimming with coins and notes. Ignoring the various bottles of fragrance and unguents provided for the use of patrons, Trowa left the cloakroom.

As he made his back to the table, he saw that it was unoccupied. Mystified, he wondered where Quatre could be, since he had not entered the cloakroom, and Trowa could not possibly have passed him on the way. As he resumed his seat, he saw that their desserts, plus two small glasses of sweet dessert wine had been served in his absence. Quatre's desert was an elaborate confection, carefully constructed and beautifully presented, while his own was a simple bowl of fresh strawberries, although even these had been carefully selected to be of equal size and shape before being neatly sliced and placed decorously within a crystal dish. As he shook a sprinkling of sugar over the bowl of strawberries with an intricately tooled, silver sugar spoon, then followed this with a drizzle of cream, once more he idly wondered what had become of his errant husband. He had decided to wait his desert until Quatre returned, but temptation got the better of him and he raised a morsel to his mouth. He almost choked on it however, as he inhaled sharply at the sudden sensation of a hand upon his knee.

Well, he had discovered where Quatre was, but the burning question was what on earth the blond though he was doing under the table. The next moment brought the answer to what Trowa realised was a very stupid question. Before he could register what was happening, Quatre had unzipped his fly and clamped soft lips around his penis.

Trowa was both surprised and thrilled in equal measure, with thrill promptly gaining the ascendancy. He glanced swiftly around the room and wondered whether any of the other diners realised what was going on, whether anyone had seen Quatre slip under the table but ultimately, he really could not make it matter. Oh, the sheer illicit pleasure of it! It was not only that he was getting a clandestine blow-job in a public place (under the circumstances his mind utilized the coarse term), but that it was a particularly artful blow-job, administered by his beloved, beautiful husband who had also been, hitherto, a paragon of moral rectitude. Trowa fully appreciated the risk his husband was taking. Quatre Winner was a household name and his face was instantly recognisable. If a hint of what was happening here leaked out, the press would have a field day. And Quatre was in no hurry either. He was taking his time, the little angel – he was making it last! Trowa knew that Quatre was also quite capable of calculating the risks. His husband knew exactly what he was doing; he was no fool. Trowa sat back and prepared to enjoy the ride.

Under the table, Quatre's heart pounded with excitement. God, it was exquisite - the feeling of such wanton hedonism, servicing his husband invisibly, almost anonymously. The sense of being wholly in control. Trowa's penis in his mouth was an iron rod in a velvet sheath; so sweetly soft on the surface, so iron-hard within. Cupping Trowa's balls in his hand, he ringed the base of his cock with his thumb and forefinger. He heard Trowa's gasp of ecstasy as he pressed the tip of one slender finger into his urethral opening. Quatre thrilled at this and at the way the sphincter tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed. Quatre was in charge and he at once played Trowa like a flute and conducted him like an orchestra. Raising the pitch, building towards a climax, then tightening his grip on the base of his husband's penis, to choke off his orgasm before it could start. Then building again, moving towards the finish, then backing off once more, then resuming and…

Trowa played his own part beautifully; not a sound, except for that one gasp when Quatre had slipped his finger into him. He had been silent up until then - silent and utterly passive, keeping his hands above the table, not reaching down to grasp Quatre's hair as he usually did, nor did he attempt to control the process in any way. He allowed his husband to be in complete control, and this is exactly what Quatre wanted. He would have liked to let it go on forever, but he realised that he could not. Reluctantly, as he let the crescendo reach all the way to its climax, Trowa came, and his semen spurted. Quatre allowed every drop of the creamy fluid to slip slowly down his throat, savouring the salty, faintly bitter taste, in stark contrast to the rich flavours of the meal he had just consumed. He could not have enjoyed the orgasm more if it had been his own. He kept Trowa in his mouth and sucked him, but gently now, feeling him soften and shrink. Sipping the last drop, he released Trowa's cock, tucked him back into his trousers, and zipped him up.

After a long moment, during which Trowa neither moved nor spoke, Quatre asked softly "Is anyone looking this way?"

"I'm not sure," Trowa rasped hoarsely, "I can't seem to focus properly."

"Oh, it doesn't matter." Quatre said dismissively. He clambered out from under the table, taking no trouble to conceal his actions, held up a gold cufflink in triumph and said loudly "It's okay darling, I've found it."

The blond made a pantomime out of reseating the cufflink (for the second time that day), sat down and looked across at Trowa, his face a picture of wide-eyed innocence.

Trowa beamed radiantly at him.

"You are amazing." He said.

"_So what happened after?" Duo asked as he stirred a fourth spoonful of sugar into his coffee. Quatre made a moue of distaste as he contemplated the quantity of sugar the other man had just added to his cup, relative to the diminutive size of the cup itself.__ He had something of a sweet tooth himself, but not that sweet._

_"What happened?" He replied at length. "We had dessert, then went home." His tone implied that he found the question curious, if not actually fatuous, since nothing else can possibly have been expected to happen. _

_"Duh!" Duo spat scornfully. "I meant later on when you got home, unless you wanna tell me that you just had a cup of Horlicks each, then went to bed."_

_"Ugh, certainly not,__" Quatre replied, his face registering distaste once again, "I hate Horlicks!" His gaze turned inwards suddenly, and an enigmatic half-smile played about his lips. _

_"...weeell..." Duo __urged with a touch of impatience, after waiting a moment or two expectantly for the blond to continue. Quatre came back with a slight start._

_"Well what?" He asked casually._

_"Well what happened when you got home." Duo said with exasperation. "I can see from your face that something did happen, so come on__, tell."_

_Quatre __smiled. Something did indeed happen, but it was something special and something very private. He loved Duo like a brother and confided in him about everything, but this..._

"Let's go to bed when we get home." Quatre murmured as he nibbled gently on Trowa's earlobe.

Trowa arched an elegantly shaped brow in amused wonder. He had no idea what had gotten into the blond, but he entered wholeheartedly into the spirit of the thing, and the pair of them smooched on the back seat of the car as enthusiastically as a couple of teenagers. However, in the bedroom somewhat later, Quatre was subdued and pensive as they lay together in an easy, companionable embrace, skin against skin; heart against heart. The blond eventually stirred and raised himself up, supported on his elbow, so that he looked down on his lover's face. The room was in darkness, but for the glow of a single bedside lamp, and Quatre's heart lurched in his breast as Trowa's face, gilded by the lamplight, was suddenly too beautiful to bear. He dipped his head and kissed the porcelain-smooth lips - lingering, pressing, exploring, drinking from his lover's mouth. His hand stroked the taller man's long, languid body sensually and smoothly, hands caressing his cock, manipulating it with smooth confidence, until Trowa was as fiercely tumescent as he had been earlier.

Trowa felt desire rise up in him, but before he could act upon it, he felt the blond's efforts to manipulate his position. Moving to Quatre's bidding he manoeuvred his body as commanded, opening himself up to accept his husband as he had never before in his and Quatre's many years together. He anticipated pain, and when it came it was sharp, like a pain of deep, agonising desire, but it was a pain he welcomed and allowed to wash over him, until pain and desire were one. Too soon, the sensation changed, becoming a deep pleasure, a feeling of submission and penetration; leaping desire and deep satisfaction. He groaned, not only with the pain, but with a deep, inner joy and a sense of acquiescence and surrender that he had never before experienced.

Afterwards, he lay still in Quatre's arms, transfixed by a profound pleasure that felt almost holy. He realised that Quatre must experience this every time Trowa made love to him, and he finally thought he understood the ethereal, saint-like aura that surrounded the blond, and that Trowa found so alluring. He was not a religious man, but he felt (somewhat sacrilegiously) that he had touched on something very like the love of a God, which burns into a man so that life is never the same for him again.

Tired and sated, Quatre soon slept, but Trowa lay awake well into the night, He had, in a sense, lost his virginity a second time, but this time it was a deflowering that he could and would remember for the remainder of his life – something bright and good to replace the shadowy remembrance of a brief, awkward fumbling, devoid of all emotion and pleasure, many years ago, when he was little more than a boy. He savoured his epiphany.

"_So, you won't tell me what happened?" Duo asked. Quatre smiled again, and shook his head. _

_"__No, I won't," He replied, "But I have a lot to thank those two girls for, what were their names – Beth and Janet was it? In fact," He added, "I think it's time they had a pay rise. I'll have a word with Human Resources when I get back to the office." _

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